Perspectives on the Old Saxon Heliand: introductory and critical essays, with an edition of the Leipzig fragment 9781933202495, 9781935978350

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Perspectives on the Old Saxon Heliand :

MEDIEVAL EUROPEAN STUDIES XII

Patrick W. Conner, Series Editor

OTHER TITLES IN THE SERIES:

Via Crucis: Essays on Early Medieval Sources and Ideas Thomas N. Hall, Editor, with assistance from Thomas D. Hill and Charles D. Wright .

Héliand: Text and Commentary Edited by James E. Cathey

Naked Before God: Uncovering the Body in Anglo-Saxon England Edited by Benjamin C. Withers and Jonathan Wilcox

Theorizing Anglo-Saxon Stone Sculpture Edited by Catherine E. Karkov and Fred Orton

Old English Literature in its Manuscript Context

Edited by Joyce Tally Lionarons , Ancient Privileges: Beowulf, Law, and the Making of Germanic Antiquity Stefan Furasinski

The Postmodern Beowulf: A Critical Casebook Edited by Eileen A. Foy and Mary K. Ramsey

The Power of Words: Anglo-Saxon Studies Presented to Donald G. Scragg on his Seventieth Birthday Edited by Jonathan Wilcox and Hugh Magennis

Czedmon’s Hymn and Material Culture in the World of Bede Edited by Allen F. Franizen and John Hines

The Cross and Culture in Anglo-Saxon England Edited by Karen folly, Catherine E. Karkov, and Sarah Larratt Keefer

Cross and Cruciform in the Anglo-Saxon World: Studies to Honor the Memory of Timothy Reuter Edited by Sarah Larratt Keefer, Karen Louise Jolly, and Catherine E. Karkov

Perspectives on the Old Saxon Heliand INTRODUCTORY AND CRITICAL ESSAYS, WITH AN

EDITION OF THE LEIPZIG FRAGMENT

Edited By

Valentine A. Pakis University of St. Thomas

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RES®

WEST VIRGINIA UNIVERSITY PRESS MORGANTOWN 2010

West Virginia University Press, Morgantown 26506 © 2010 by West Virginia University Press All rights reserved. First edition published 2010 by West Virginia University Press

18 1716151413 121110 987654321 ISBN-10: 1-933202-49-1 ISBN-13: 978-1-933202-49-5

(alk. paper)

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Perspectives on the Old Saxon Heliand : introductory and critical essays, _ with an edition of the Leipzig fragment / edited by Valentine A. Pakis. -- lst ed. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN-13: 978-1-933202-49-5 (pbk. : alk. paper) ISBN-10: 1-933202-49-1 (pbk. : alk. paper)

1. Heliand. 2. Old Saxon language. I. Pakis, Valentine A. PF4000.P47 2010 829'.1--dc22

Library of Congress Control Number: 2009028337 Cover image: Ivory carving from front panel of MS Douce 176m, an early ninth century illuminated gospel. Used with permission of the Bodleian Library, Oxford University.

CONTENTS Preface 2.0... ccc cc cece ee eee eee cette eee ete eeeececeeee Vii Valentine A. Pakis

I. Introductions to the Heliand and its Language The Historical Setting of the Heliand, the Poem,

and the Manuscripts ....... 0... cece eee eee eee e cette eee 3 James E. Cathey

The Old Saxon Heliand ... 0... ccc ccc cee eee eee eens 34

G. Ronald Murphy |

An Overview of Old Saxon Linguistics,

1992-2008 oo. cece ccc eee eee ee tere eet teen eee eeeeesens 63 Marc Pierce

II. ‘The Diatessaronic Tradition The Parable of the Fisherman in the Heliand:

The Old Saxon Version of Matthew 13:47-50............ 0s eee ee eee 93 Tjitze Baarda

(Un) Desirable Origins: The Heliand and

the Gospel of Thomas ......... 0... cee cee eee eee eee eee ee eee 120 Valentine A. Pakis

III. Orality and Narrative Tradition Was the Heliand Poet Illiterate? .............. 0... eee eee eee eee 167 Harald Haferland (Translated by Valentine A. Pakis)

Vv

The Hatred of Enemies: Germanic Heroic Poetry

and the Narrative Design of the Heliand ..............0.5..4+.44.4 208 Harald Haferland (Translated by Erik Baumann)

IV. The Portrayal of the Jews in the Heliand The Jews in the Heliand ..... 0. cc eee ee eee eee eee 237 G. Ronald Murphy

Jesus Christ between Jews and Heathens: The Germanic Mission and the Portrayal of Christ

Martin Friedrich |

in the Old Saxon Heliand ...... 0... cece cece eee eee eee wees 254 (Translated by Ariane Fischer and James Pasternak)

V. The Discovery of the Leipzig Fragment (2006) A New Heliand Fragment from the Leipzig

University Library .... 0... 0 ccc ce cee eee eee eee eee es 281 Hans Ulrich Schmid (Translated by Valentine A. Pakis)

Plates 1. Leipzig, Universitatsbibliothek, Thomas 4073 (MS),

Outer SIdE 2... eee ee ee ee ee eee eee eee eee eee eens 303 2. Leipzig, Universitatsbibliothek, Thomas 4073 (MS),

, inner Side 2... ce ec eee eee ee ee eee eee eee een es 304

Works Cited 2... ccc ce eee ce eee cece eee ees 305

vi ,

Preface his anthology is the first of its kind since Jiirgen Eichhoff | | and Irmengard Rauch’s excellent Der Heliand (Wege der Forschung 321), which appeared in 1973, and it is the first collection of Heliand scholarship ever to be assembled entirely in English. Some have said that it would be pointless to translate articles from German on such a topic, since anyone interested in Old Saxon

literature will necessarily be able to read German scholarship, but my experience has suggested otherwise. The Heliand appeals to a wide audience — historians, biblical scholars, linguists, and scholars of medieval literature, for instance, have all had much to say about it —and many of its readers lack the skill or patience to wade through

difficult German prose. I have found this to be true, in particular, of many students and scholars of Anglo-Saxon England, whose interest in the Heliand is strong for reasons that do not need to be

outlined here. :

The popularity of the Heliand in the English-speaking world has grown considerably over the past two decades, and a few scholars are largely responsible for this. To mention some major works: In 1989, G. Ronald Murphy’s The Saxon Savior: The Germanic Transformation of the Gospel in the Ninth-Century Heliand reopened the discussion

over the synthesis of Germanic and Christian worldviews in the poem, and in 1992 his English translation ~ The Heliand: The Saxon Gospel — was published by the Oxford University Press. In this year, too, Irmengard Rauch’s The Old Saxon Language: Grammar, Epic Narrative, Linguistic Interference appeared, which is the first grammar

of Old Saxon to have been written in English and also the first to

vil

Preface

shift the focus of Old Saxon linguistics from the phonology of the language to its syntax and semantics. James E. Cathey’s Héliand: Text and Commentary, published in 2002, represents the first attempt

to make the Old Saxon original more accessible to English speaking students, and should become the standard classroom edition in

America and elsewhere. ,

A number of relevant shorter writings on the Heliand have also been printed in English, on the wave of the books named above. These English articles, together with the recent stream of studies in German by Harald Haferland and the discovery of a new manuscript fragment of the Heliand, inspired the composition of the present volume. My goal in collecting articles was not to fill in every gap

between now and the last collection, but rather to bring together recent scholarship that both addresses new turns in the field and, where possible, engages with the relevant arguments of the past three decades. With the exception of the study by Tjitze Baarda, originally published in 1992, each of the articles postdates the year 2000. Baarda’s work was included because of the freshness of its perspective; seldom does a medieval Germanic poem capture the philological attention _ of a Semiticist with expertise in New Testament textual criticism. The introductory essays by James E. Cathey and G. Ronald Murphy complement one another and will be especially useful for beginning

students. Whereas Cathey focuses on the historical background, meter, and manuscripts of the Heliand, Murphy outlines the chief literary themes of the poem. Marc Pierce’s survey of work in Old Saxon linguistics, an original contribution to this volume, will bring the reader up to date in the many aspects of this growing field. My own contribution, like Baarda’s, is concerned with the relationship between the Heliand, Tatian’s Diatessaron, and the Coptic Gospel of Thomas. My purpose here is not, however, to debate philologi-

cal details but rather to examine the ideological motivations that have propelled such debates in the past. A section of this book

vill

Preface

contains two representative essays by Harald Haferland that pres- — ent unconventional approaches to the way in which the poem was composed. ‘These studies are especially captivating for those who believe, as I do, that oral-formulaic theory has been too rashly cast aside. The representation of Jews in the Heliand is the theme of the

fourth section of the anthology. Recent scholarship on this topic in Anglo-Saxon England — see the titles by Andrew Scheil and Renate Bauer, for example — demonstrate the liveliness of this issue

and also the need to bring together the evidence from Old Saxon, which should be incorporated into larger studies in the future. In this section, Murphy’s article offers a cultural and literary analysis and Martin Friedrich’s the perspective of a Church historian. In April of 2006, a new manuscript leaf of the Heliand was discovered

in the Leipzig University Library. The concluding section of this

book consists of the initial reaction to this find, the editio princeps | by Hans Ulrich Schmid. Although full bibliographical information is provided in the notes of the individual chapters, it seemed appropriate to assemble a complete list of works cited at the end of the book. No comprehensive bibliography of Heliand studies has appeared since the 1975 publication of Johanna Belkin and Jiirgen Meier's Bibliographie zu Otfrid von Weifenburg und zur altsdchsischen Bibeldichtung. While the

bibliography is limited here to the works cited in the volume itself,

it includes enough recent titles to be of use to researchers. | A confluence of support enabled this book to come about. It is my pleasure to thank, first of all, each of the authors for kindly allowing his work to be reprinted (and translated when necessary) for inclusion in the volume, and also for openly accepting my editorial modifications. Marc Pierce deserves special thanks for his original contribution. My gratitude is also due to the editors and publishers who granted the rights to reproduce the articles and the plates, namely

Patrick W. Conner and the West Virginia University Press, Brian Murdoch and Camden House, Arend Quak and Rodopi, R. Allen

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Preface

Shoaf and Exemplaria, Joachim Heinzle and the S. Hirzel Verlag, Wolfgang Adam and the Carl Winter Universitatsverlag, Peter Meister and the Peter Lang Publishing Group, Jochen-Christoph Kaiser and

the W. Kohlhammer Verlag, and Ulrich Johannes Schneider of the Leipzig University Library. I am indebted to my fellow translators as well — Erik Baumann, Ariane Fischer, and James Pasternak —~ for

committing to the project before publication was secured and for their finished products. Jeremy Bergerson deserves my thanks for his skillful copyediting. Finally, the West Virginia University Press must be acknowledged for its acceptance of this volume and for its strong support of Heliand scholarship in recent years. Valentine A. Pakis

Xx

I

Introductions to the Heliand and its Language

BLANK PAGE

The Historical Setting of the Heliand, the Poem, and the Manuscripts’ James E. Cathey he Old Saxon telling of the Gospel, titled Heliand (Savior) by J. A. Schmeller in his edition of 1830, was not written in a vacuum but was, as is everything, a product of its place and time. The Heliand was composed in what is now part of northern Germany in the first half of the ninth century. The time was approximately in the middle of the period extending from the first Christian missions to the north of Europe in the 500s to the end of the 1100s, by which time most Europeans, excepting the Balts and the Prussians, had at least superficially been converted. It is the political

and religious background of that period which provides a context in which to understand the missionizing intent of the Heliand, and the political as well. THE SAXONS

The Roman historian Tacitus placed the precursors of the Saxons in southern Denmark, north of the Eider river, in the first century AD.

According to the Greek explorer Ptolemaus, they lived in what is now Holstein (between the Eider and Elbe rivers) during the second 1 Originally published in James E. Cathey, ed., Héliand: Text and Commentary, Medieval European Studies 2 (Morgantown: West Virginia UP, 2002), 3-28.

3

James E. Cathey

century AD. Kathleen Herbert describes them from the point of view of the Angles, ancestors of the English: South of [the Angles], in the lands around the lower Elbe and Weser, were the Suebic tribes. The first Roman writer to mention the English makes no reference to the Saxons. Like Franks, it is

the name of a later confederation of tribes from this area. The Saxons were of Suebic stock; their earlier English neighbors called them Swe/fe; later they were known as Old Saxons, to distinguish them from the folk who had crossed to Britain.’

The Saxons did not expand their territory beyond the Elbe until the third century but were fighting with the Franks to their south by 350 in the area between the lower Rhine and upper Weser rivers. By the 400s they were plundering the coasts of southern England and of France, and together with the Angles, some of them settled

in England beginning around 450. Toward the end of the 600s the continental Saxons were as far south as the Lippe river and in Thuringia, but by the 700s the Franks were able to exert sufficient pressure to contain them to the north in Westphalia THE EARLY MISSIONS

Up to the time shortly preceding the composition of the Heliand, Germanic groups were still in the process of settling their territories and frontiers. Their worldview was by definition pre-Christian. Although the Frankish king Clovis had been converted to Roman

Catholicism through baptism in 496, the general population had been left largely undisturbed by missionizing efforts. Only later did the mission come, but not, as we might expect, directly northward from Rome. It rather took a long sweep through time and geography. The effort to missionize the Saxons had its historical roots with

the Celts of Roman Britain, where Christian churches had been 2 Kathleen Herbert, Looking for the Lost Gods of England (Pinner: Anglo-Saxon Books, 1994), 9.

4

The Historical Setting of the Heliand

established during the third century. From post-Roman Britain the effort of conversion proceeded to Ireland in the fourth century. The increasing settlement of England by Anglo-Saxons from the continent during the fifth century interrupted communications between Rome and Britain, and the center of the Celtic Church shifted to Ireland, a

land little touched by Roman influence. The Irish, in turn, brought the Church back to Britain by establishing northern monasteries at Jona and Lindisfarne. From these outposts Irish monks preached the Gospel in Scotland and northern England, while the English south remained a mixture of pagan and Anglo-Roman Christian. The missionizing effort conducted by the Irish did not stop at attempts to convert the Scottish Celts and Anglo-Saxons. ‘The first great missionary to the continent was also Irish. St. Columban (born about 545) left Bangor in northern Ireland reportedly along with the apostolic number of twelve fellow monks in the decade before 600. He (and they) established monasteries adhering to the Celtic Church in what is now eastern France and, later, at Bobbio in northern Italy, where Columban died in 615 on his mission to the Lombards. One companion of Columban, Gall (born in Ireland about 550, died around 630), remained in what is now Switzerland when his patron continued on to Italy. The great monastery at St. Gallen carries his name. The Franks had long been on the periphery of Roman influence,

particularly after they entered northern Gaul, which retained a continuation of Roman administration in the form of the Gallo-Roman Church. The key turning point in the history of this Church in the West came with the conversion of the Frankish king Clovis to Roman Catholicism when, according to the story in the History of the Franks by Gregory of Tours, Clovis’s god of battle (i.e. Wodan) failed him, whereas his calling upon Christ routed the enemy.’ From that time on the Franks were at least nominally Catholic. At about the same time that the Celtic Catholic Columban was

establishing his Burgundian monastery at Luxeuil in the French 3 J.N. Hillgarth, ed., Christianity and Paganism, 350-750: The Conversion of Western

Europe, 2nd ed. (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1986), 82.

5

James E. Cathey

Vosges, the Roman Catholic Pope Gregory I in 596 sent a mission in the opposite direction, from Rome to Britain, led by Gregory’s appointee as Bishop of London, who was later to be known as St. Augustine of Canterbury (died in 605). Augustine began the work of converting the southern Anglo-Saxons, concentrating first on their leader Ethelbert, king of Kent. His efforts resulted in the nominal baptism of allegedly ten thousand of Ethelbert’s followers in the

Roman Church. The ground rules for conversion were set down by Gregory in a letter sent from Rome in 601 to give guidance to Augustine. These rules stated, in part, that idols were to be removed from heathen temples, but the temples themselves should be purified

by the removal of altars on which sacrifices had been performed, and Christian altars should be set up in their place. In other words, the tactic was to replace the content of the old forms, including the content (semantics) of certain vocabulary.* Since the kings were understood in their native, pre-Christian context as intermediaries with the gods, their conversion was always paramount. (As we will see, the ancient poetic form likewise received new content in the Heliand, which retains abundant allusions to older conditions.) THE ARIAN AND MOSLEM THREATS

The great competition within Christian religiosity in Western Europe was between Roman Catholicism and Arianism, which did not hold with the unity of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. The Burgundians and the Visigoths at the borders of Clovis’s territory were Arian in belief, and converting them to Roman Catholicism was virtually equivalent

in importance to converting pagan groups like the Alamanni and Saxons. Already in a letter from Bishop Avitus of Vienne to Clovis in about 496 we read the exhortation to go out and subdue pagans 4 See Wolfgang Hempel, Ubermuot diu alte. . .: Der Superbia-Gedanke und seine Rolle in der deutschen Literatur des Mittelatlers, Studien zur Germanistik, Anglistik und Komparatistik 1 (Bonn: Bouvier, 1970), 82.

6

The Historical Setting of the Heliand

(i.e. Arians) for the sake of the Christian mission: The followers of [Arian] error have in vain, by a cloud of contradictory and untrue opinions, sought to conceal from your extreme subtlety the glory of the Christian name. [. . .] Since God, thanks to you, will make of your people His own possession, offer a part of the treasure of Faith which fills your heart to the peoples living beyond you who, still living in natural ignorance, have not been corrupted by the seeds of perverse doctrines [that is, Arianism]. Do not fear to send them envoys and to plead with them the cause of God, who has done so much for your cause. So that the other pagan peoples, at first being subject to your empire for the sake of religion, while they still seem to have another ruler, may be distinguished rather by their race than by their prince.°

James C. Russell notes, however, that “[f]rom the death of Clovis in 511 until the arrival of the Irish missionary monk Columban in Gaul

about 590, the progress of Christianization among the Germanic peoples, aside from the Merovingian court, was negligible,” but he asserts further that “the heroic self-discipline and asceticism of Irish monasticism may have appealed to the Germanic warrior spirit” and that “[w|hatever the sources of attraction were, Columban and his followers succeeded in establishing a network of monasteries, free from local episcopal control, on the property of northern Frankish aristocrats.’® Whether this attraction represents the continuation of pre-Christian religious control by the nobility or new ways of thinking or even so mundane a matter as the teaching of innovative methods of agriculture by the monasteries, the Church had effectively found a method of influencing the Franks and eventually recruiting them to its teaching—or perhaps it was rather that the Frankish aristocracy used the Church for the sanctioning of its domination. 5 Hillgarth, ed., Christianity and Paganism [note 3], 76-78. 6 James C. Russell, The Germanization of Early Medieval Christianity (Oxford: Oxford UP, 1994), 154, 156, respectively.

7

| james E. Cathey While England was being missionized, a competing monotheistic religion born on the Arabian Peninsula swiftly rose to power and began to threaten Europe. Mohammed moved from Mecca to Medina, proclaiming that “there is no God but God, and Mohammed is the prophet of God.” By the time of his death in 632 Mohammed had kindled a religious fervor that let Islam conquer most of North Africa and Spain within the next eighty years. The Arabs were halted in 732 by Charles Martel, who defeated the Mohammedan forces at Poitiers in the middle of France. It was not obvious during these centuries that Europe as a whole would become and remain Christian. The effort to convert the Saxons approximately one hundred years after the victory at Poitiers was still part of an attempt to consolidate Europe for Christianity. Power politics and the Church in Rome were inextricably linked

during the period under consideration. Rome was under pressure from Byzantium to the east, and Europe as a whole was pressed by the Arabs coming from the south through Spain. Rome had reached a nadir of power. Syria, Palestine, North Africa, and Spain had all converted to Islam. Greece and southern Italy (Sicily and Calabria) came under the influence of the Eastern Rite in Byzantium after 791. The Germanic Lombards, who adhered to Arianism, threatened Rome from the north, and only central Italy and France remained under the Roman Church. Arianism as a rival theology ceased to be a threat to the Roman Church by the middle of the seventh century, but the disposition of the Franks seemed uncertain indeed. The position of the Pope threatened to be reduced to that solely of the bishop of Rome. THE ENGLISH MISSION

From southern England the next great Christian missionary journeyed south. Wynfrith, known as Boniface (born about 675, died in 754), was educated in the abbey of Nursling near Winchester. Upon being elevated to the rank of bishop in 722 he was charged by Pope

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The Historical Setting of the Heliand

Gregory II to work in Germany. At Geismar, near Fritzlar in Hessia, Boniface toppled the pillar that supported the heathen worldview, a great oak dedicated to the god Thor. In not being punished by the gods for his heresies, Boniface and his fellow missionaries demon-

strated the primacy of the Christian God among the heathen. The foundation by Boniface of the monastery at Fulda in 743 was less dramatic than the cutting down of the oak at Geismar but key to the ongoing effort to missionize the entire north of the continent. Thus were the first blows struck for Christianity on Saxon territory about one hundred years prior to the composition of the Heliand at a time when Islam was firmly established in Spain and posed a considerable threat to the Roman Church (then restricted to part of what is now Italy). It was Boniface who began to change the situation by calling a synod in 747 at which all Thuringian, Bavarian, and Frankish bishops swore allegiance to Rome. Four years later, following the deposition of the last in the line of Merovingian kings, Pippin IIT (714-768) was anointed as king of the Franks in the presence of Boniface. Pippin subsequently pledged by oath in 754 to Pope Stephen II to protect the Roman Church against the Lombards, thereby effecting the rescue of Rome, which otherwise would probably have sunk to the status of a minor power. The consolidation of Frankish allegiance to and protection of Rome continued under the reign of Pippin’s son Karl (768-814), known as Charlemagne, the greatest of Frankish kings. CHARLEMAGNE AND EUROPE

9|

Charlemagne was not the only son of Pippin III. Charlemagne and his younger brother, Karlmann, were both anointed by Pope Stephan II in 754 and along with their father, Pippin, were granted the honorific title Patricius Romanorum, which almost guaranteed later conflict. In 770 Charlemagne defied the wishes of the Pope and married the

daughter of the Lombard king Desiderius in an attempt to isolate

James E. Cathey

Karlmann politically. Karlmann, however, died suddenly the following year, and Charlemagne (ignoring the rights of inheritance of Karlmann’s sons) seized all of the Frankish kingdoms. He sent his wife back to her father in 771 and, now following the wishes of the Pope, he turned against Desiderius in 773. The sons of Karlmann had fled to the Lombard court, and Desiderius urged the Pope to anoint them as kings. Charlemagne prevailed, however, and took

the title Rex Langobardorum. | Meanwhile, Charlemagne was also concerned about his southern flank and eventually secured the borders against the Arabs, although

not before the first Frankish campaign across the Pyrenees ended with the defeat of Roland in 778. Within the following ten years, however, he extended his realm to southern France and far enough © to the east to include the Bavarians. CHARLEMAGNE AND THE SAXONS

The Saxons were the only large unconverted grouping left in the west of the continent, and Charlemagne led numerous campaigns against them in the period 772-804. Even before then Charlemagne’s father Pippin had led expeditions against the Saxons in 743, 744, 747, and according to the Royal Frankish Annals, in 758, “went into Saxony and took the strongholds of the Saxons at Sythen by storm. And he inflicted bloody defeats on the Saxon people. ‘They then promised

to obey all his orders |. . .].”” The Saxons were not a single people but rather a confederation of different groups which occupied the

northern German areas of Westphalia, Eastphalia, Engern, and North Albingia with their various political or juridical districts.

: There was no single king, and Charlemagne had to fight grueling wars against separate entities. The only one unifying instance was 7 Bernhard Walter Scholz and Barbara Rogers, trans., Carolingian Chronicles: Royal Frankish Annals and Nithard’s Histories (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan

Press, 1970), 13, 42. |

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The Historical Setting of the Heliand

an annual assembly at Marklo on the Weser River. Present at the assembly were about 3,700 representatives: the heads of the hundred political districts (Gaue) with thirty-six elected representatives from

each district, twelve each for the three estates of the nobles, freemen, and tenant farmers. Only the thralls were excluded. During the reign of Charlemagne a strong champion emerged on the side of the Saxons in the person of the Westphalian duke Widukind, who had a strong following among all the people.

The Saxons gained strength under Widukind and took some Frankish territory to the south of Westphalia. Charlemagne recognized the danger and swore in 775 either to Christianize the Saxons or to liquidate them. He penetrated their territory to the east of the Weser for the first time in that year and met the Eastphalians near Goslar and the Engern at Biickeberg, but the Saxons did not resist. Instead Charlemagne showered the leaders of EKastphalia and Engern

with gifts, and they delegated hostages to him. The Eastphalians were faced with Slavs on their eastern frontier and could scarcely afford a two-front war. The Westphalians, however, resisted, and Charlemagne was forced to fight them at Libbecke, after which they offered hostages and swore allegiance to him.

Unfortunately for Charlemagne, this brief foray into Saxon territory and the co-opting of some leaders of the Eastphalians, Westphalians, and Engern did not result in the pacification of the whole area. In 777 he moved with a large army to Paderborn and convened the Frankish assembly there on Saxon territory, at which

location he also ordered the Saxons to convene their assembly. Charlemagne required those whose representatives attended to pledge to him and to the Christian faith their fealty or risk losing their freedom and property. Those Saxons then promised loyalty to him and

accepted Christianity, which meant in effect that the southern part of Saxon territory became part of Charlemagne’s Frankish lands. A mass baptism took place, and Abbot Sturm from the newly-founded monastery at Fulda, with its approximately four hundred monks,

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James E. Cathey

took charge of further religious instruction. However, because of the procedure followed by the monks from Fulda in setting baptism as the first goal of their mission—and in mercilessly carrying it out by destroying all heathen cult sites—they triggered a reaction on the part of the Saxons. Widukind had not challenged Charlemagne up to this point but — had instead withdrawn to the protection of the Danish court. After the aggressive behavior of the monks from Fulda, however, the general populace was prepared to resist this strange and seemingly destruc-

tive new religion and united in great numbers behind Widukind, who in 778 led a campaign that destroyed churches and cloisters in the west of the territory all the way to Deutz by Cologne and south to the mouth of the river Lahn. Only a defense by the Alemans and East Franconians saved the monastery at Fulda. Charlemagne countered in 779 by moving back into Saxon territory, and all went as before. The Eastphalians and Engern gave hostages and cooperated. Charlemagne reshuffled the structure of the mission, and the situation quieted. He made his next move in 780, when he called together an assembly at the source of the river Lippe at which he partitioned Saxony into missionary dioceses and appointed bishops,

priests, and abbots from other parts of his territories to run them: the Bishop of Wiirzburg went to Paderborn, the Abbot of the cloister at Amorbach went to Verden, and so on. Charlemagne was back in Italy in 781, and all was quiet in Saxony. In 782 Charlemagne held another assembly at Lippspringe, this time to dissolve the old Saxon political structure. Instead of bringing in Frankish nobility, he installed Saxons from notable families

as dukes on the Frankish model in an effort to co-opt at least part of the previously loosely-organized political system.

Widukind and his followers reacted strongly to the confiscation of property, the introduction of mandatory tithing, and the overthrow of the old way of government by annual assembly. This time he and his troops attacked missionaries and the newly-

12 |

The Historical Setting of the Heliand

installed dukes and nobles. Charlemagne ordered loyal Eastphalians, Palatinates, and allied Saxons, together with Frankish forces, to meet Widukind. Charlemagne’s forces were wiped out almost completely.

Charlemagne hurried north and conferred with the leader of his loyal Saxon troops, after which the survivors of the battle against Widukind were marched up, and he had them all executed. Even though Widukind won the battle, he must, however, have also suffered

great losses, since he returned to the Danes after this victory. Charlemagne persevered and in 783 led a campaign to Detmold, where the Saxons had prepared to do battle. He won a bloody victory and withdrew to Paderborn to await reinforcements. His next move

was to the river Hase where he won a bitter battle against Saxon forces. In spite of these successes, a new campaign was necessary in 784, but nothing decisive came of it. Charlemagne convened the assembly again in Paderborn in 785, but no record survives of what transpired there. In any case, following the assembly of 785 there

were no more hostilities in the middle and southern territories. Charlemagne began negotiations with Widukind, and they exchanged

hostages. The result was that Widukind, along with his hostages from Charlemagne, traveled to Attiguy and was baptized there in 785. Charlemagne himself was Widukind’s sponsor. THE CONSOLIDATION OF POWER

The law known as Capitulatio de partibus Saxoniae came into force | on October 28, 797, in which it was stipulated that only the king, Charlemagne in this case, could convene a Saxon assembly. ‘The position of the Church was strengthened in that the death penalty was imposed for heathen belief and practices. Attendance at mass and the hearing of sermons as well as tithing was made obligatory. The Saxons had to build new churches, each with a house of worship and two manses. For every group of one hundred and twenty men, a servant and a servant girl had to be assigned for work in the

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James E. Cathey

church. In other words, the draconian measures that had led to the rebellion in 778 were codified and legally reinforced, but the struggle continued for the northern territories, and Charlemagne was involved

until 804 with subduing Saxon groups there. As in the advice given by Pope Gregory I in his letter of 601, the

leader was here again the key figure in the process of conversion. After Widukind submitted to baptism, the missionaries had an easier time converting the populace. The Heliand was likely still a part of the effort of persuasion and pacification when it was composed some forty years after Widukind’s baptism. | SEMANTIC HURDLES TO THE TASK OF CONVERSION

One overriding concern is the meaning (semantics) of the Old Saxon

words in the work of conversion to Christianity. Deep cultural divides had to be crossed on the way to conversion, not the least of which was the gap between a world-accepting native religiosity and a world-rejecting, extra-mundane religion, Christianity.’ Putting missionaries in the field among uncomprehending or even hostile Saxons was hazardous enough, but perhaps the most difficult practical problem was the translation of Christian concepts, since the pre-Christian Saxon conception of the world and of behavior in it were at considerable odds with the message of Christianity. The Saxons practiced some form of religion common to Germanic groups. There was no uniform ritual but various forms were tolerated,

that is, there was no one specific way to worship but rather many ways to (attempt to) gain the favor of the gods. Sacred springs and trees were worshiped, and there were cult sites. The monk Ruodolf of Fulda (died in 865) reported that the Saxons also worshiped in open air a wooden idol of considerable size that was placed vertically. They called it the Irmensil, a world pillar (as has been worshiped by

various groups in various parts of the world). There was a store of 8 See Russell, The Germanization [note 6].

14

The Historical Setting of the Heliand

treasure at the temple, where gods called Saxnot (perhaps another name for Wodan), Thor, and others were honored. To the Saxon mind the world was ruled by forces in it, not apart from it. When the world perished at the end of our time, everything including the gods would go down with it. Thus one of the primary messages to be imparted was of a God that stands eternally beyond the visible. Perhaps more troublesome were socio-cultural standards that had to be overthrown in order that Christianity might prosper. ‘The

very vocabulary with which this new religion had to be described . contained meanings at odds with the Christian message, most particularly as regards the place of the individual among other members

of society and the attitude of the individual toward God. The missionaries had to persuade converts that the proper attitude was one of humility before God and good will towards their fellow humans, but Old Saxon had no native word to render the Latin term humilitas.

The pre-Christian mindset was rather the opposite, and the words with which the new message had to be conveyed were in themselves frequently opposite to what was meant. It was thus necessary for the mission to persevere and subvert old words to convey new meanings, since imported words from Latin would necessarily have remained in a foreign realm apart from daily life.

The Germanic ethic required behavior that, according to Christian sensibility was understood as superbia. To the traditional Germanic—and thus Saxon—mindset, the egocentric goal of achieving fame in this world as an individual (and proper status for one’s family) was all that would live on after one’s death. Tales told of dead

heroes constituted the only transcendent realm in a world defined merely by what is here and now. Fame was attained not through good works but rather through glorious and brave deeds on one’s own behalf and/or against one’s 9 A brief description of this is to be found in Achim Leube, “Die Sachsen,” in Die Germanen: Geschichte und Kultur der germanischen Stimme in Mitteleuropa, ed. Bruno Kriiger, 2 vols. (Berlin: Akademie, 1979-83), 2:468

15

James E. Cathey

opponents. Positive words for praise, including adjectives like bald ‘brave, bold’, frékni ‘bold’, gél ‘boisterous’, and obarmédig ‘proud’, or nouns like éra ‘honor’, ge/p ‘terrifying battle cry’, or hrém ‘fame’, were not matched by words in the Saxon vocabulary like reticent, modest, gentle, or humble. Belief in one’s own might was paramount.

The egocentric native concepts of honor, fame, etc. were not directly confronted by the Church, since this would have been counterproductive. Russell writes: The notion of Christian honor, with its goal of individual salvation, directly opposed the supremacy of the Germanic concept of [. . J the bond of kinship which could be extended to others through an oath of loyalty. |. . .] This bond included the duty to avenge a kinsman or lord’s death, as well as the obligation to follow one’s lord into battle, even if death was imminent. To survive one’s lord in battle was cause for disgrace, exceeded in shamefulness only by acts of cowardice and outright betrayal.”

Although the societal context was not chaotic, not “every man for himself,” homicide was a common means of achieving individual goals, be it for the maintenance of property rights or in order to - gain renown as a member of a fighting troop. Great leaders attained their position through eloquence, bravery, and strength, and their followers gained fame in turn for the same qualities along with their faithfulness to their leader. There was a strong bond to kinship and prestige group, but these bonds were maintained through individual strength instead of humanitarian sympathy. Ethical values were posited on individual qualities instead of considerations for the good of the group. Hempel writes, “The Church is thus required repeatedly to condemn manslaughter, [. . .| vengeance, |. . .| abduction [. . .] as mortal sins and to pay great attention to them in moral teachings as well as law.”" The Church in its preaching focused on the deadly 10 Russell, The Germanization |note 6], 121. 11 Hempel, Ubermuot diu alte [note 4], 53: “Daher ist die Kirche gen6tigt, in Morallehre wie Gesetz immer wieder den Totschlag [. . .], die Rache, [. . .], den

Raub |. . .] als Totsiinden zu brandmarken und ihnen breite Aufmerksamkeit 16

The Historical Setting of the Heliand

sins of homicide, revenge, and pillage. To convey the message of Christian charity and ego-denying humilitas, the native words that were negative and pejorative in the context of Christian sensibilities were employed with the (indeed

eventually realized) hope that the Christian content would also convert their meanings.” Subversion of the vocabulary was the only possible method available to spread the Gospel. As Russell puts it: Instead of directly confronting this opposing value system and attempting to radically transform it—an approach which almost certainly would have resulted in an immediate rejection of Christianity—the missionaries apparently sought to redefine the Germanic virtues of strength, courage, and loyalty in sucha

manner that would reduce their incompatibility with Christian | values, while at the same time ‘inculturating’ Christian values

as far as possible to accommodate the Germanic ethos and world-view.”

To Saxons presented with the story of Christ in the form of the Heliand, a work necessarily written in a way that would appeal to a pre-Christian or newly converted audience, the choice of vocabulary that rang with old associations and carried old meanings must have clashed, at least somewhat, with the religious world of the story. In some cases, however, the old meanings and cultural values may

have actually helped to illustrate the Gospel story that the poet was recasting for his Saxon audience. G. Ronald Murphy, in his analysis of the use of light and bright imagery, argues interestingly that the author of the Heliand relied on the use of bright images and light in John’s Gospel to portray a path from birth into this “light” and death into the “other light” in analogy with images from Germanic mythology, such as that of bifrést, a bridge of light (rainbow) from this world to the abode beyond earthly existence.“ zu widmen.” 12. See ibid., 57.

13. Russell, The Germanization [note 6], 121. , 14 G. Ronald Murphy, “The Light Worlds of the Heliand,” Monatshefte 89

17

james E. Cathey THE POEM

, The Old Saxon Heliand is preserved in 5,983 lines of verse edited from the M and C manuscripts (see The Manuscripts below). The work was composed during the long period of decline of Germanic culture and slow encroachment of European culture during which Christianity had begun to replace ancient forms of worship, while the poetic forms, although not given up, were abandoning their strict alliterative and metrical constraints everywhere on the continent. The Heliand shows a mixture of the more strictly controlled old poetic form and a discursive, prose-like overlay (see Heliand Verse below). Although the new culture was slowly and against considerable

odds being introduced to northern Germany from monasteries at Fulda or Werden (as Richard Drégereit argued) or Corvey (which is Klaus Gantert’s position)," the old culture had very deep roots indeed. Throughout the corpus of the Heliand there are words and phrases whose semantic content at least historically referred to conditions of earlier belief and behavior, although it seems clear that by the time of the composition of the work many of the meanings had changed. Nevertheless, we can wonder what reactions certain words and phrases would have triggered in a contemporary audience still cognizant of (or even still practicing) pre-Christian habits of thought. The assumption here is that, because of its traditional alliterative

form, the Heliand was written to be read aloud. Burkhard Taeger discusses the musical notation found over lines 310-313 in manuscript (1997), 5-17.

15 See Richard Drogereit, “Die Heimat des Heliand,” Jahrbuch der Gesellschaft fiir niedersachsische Kirchengeschichte 49 (1951), 1-18, repr. in Sachsen, Angelsachsen, Niedersachsen: Ausgewdahilte Aufsdtze in einem dreibandigen Werk, by Drégereit,

ed. Carl R6per and Herbert Huster, 3 vols. (Hamburg: Commercium, 1978), 3:51-68; idem, Werden und der Heliand: Studien zur Kulturgeschichte der Abtei Werden und zur Herkunft des Heliand (Essen: Fredebeul & Koenen, 1951); and Klaus Gantert, Akkomodation und eingeschriebener Kommentar: Untersuchungen zur Ubertragungsstrategie des Helianddichters (Tiibingen: Narr, 1998).

18

The Historical Setting of the Heliand

M and tentatively concludes “[. . .] that the Heliand can also be viewed as intended for a “half-liturgical’ use.”"* The question of which

audience it addressed cannot be settled with finality. Perhaps it was intended as an exercise for monks or even as mealtime devotionals read aloud to them. Perhaps it was written in order to be read (or “sung”) in episodes before groups of potential converts who had already suffered baptism by coercion and who now needed to be persuaded of the validity of the new faith. Drégereit hypothesizes that “the unknown poet, probably a Frisian, composed his sermonepic not for monks but for noble ladies in one of the many religious communities of canonesses, namely in Essen.””

The question of the site of composition has been debated for a century and a half. The general body of opinion tends to favor Fulda because, among other reasons, the Heliand reflects the com-

mentary on Matthew written by the Abbot of Fulda, Hrabanus Maurus, and because there was a copy of the work known as Tatian there. A version of Tatian was used as a basis for the structure of the Heliand. There are, however, arguments in favor of other monasteries. Drogereit favors Werden on paleographic evidence, namely the fact that only at Werden was the letter used, which is characteristic

of the M and P manuscripts, and on the evidence of the presence of Frisian monks there. ‘The Heliand evinces so-called Frisianisms in the spellings and in lines 223 and 224. These views are, however, challenged by Bernhard Bischoff, who claims 16 Burkhard Taeger, “Ein vergessener handschriftlicher Befund: Die Neumen im Minchener Heliand,” Zeitschrift ftir deutsches Altertum und deutsche Literatur 107 (1978), 192: “[. . .| da& auch der “Heliand’ vor dem Horizont halbliturgischen

Gebrauchs zu sehen sein diirfte.”

17. Richard Drdgereit, “Die schriftlichen Quellen zur Christianisierung der Sachsen und ihre Aussagefahigkeit,” in Die Eingliederung der Sachsen in das Frankenreich, ed. Walther Lammers (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1970), 465: “der unbekannte Dichter, wohl ein Friese, [verfaf$te] sein Predigt-Epos nicht einmal fiir Ménche, sondern fir adlige Damen in einem der zahlreichen Kanonissenstifte, namlich Essen.”

19

james E. Cathey

that many manuscripts that Drdgereit attributes to Werden were | instead brought there from the monasteries at Corbie in France or its Saxon offshoot Corvey, or from elsewhere—or they were never there at all.® Another scholar, Willy Krogmann, believes that Fulda must be excluded as a site of composition on the basis of the word pdascha instead of dstar/dstarun for “Easter.” The latter word was used only | in the Archdiocese of Mainz, and Fulda was in its territory. Werden was under the Archdiocese of Cologne, where pdscha was the term for “Easter,” and Krogmann also adduces the paleographic evidence of in favor of Werden.’ Gantert points out that the sons of Saxon

nobility had been schooled in Corbie in the Picardy and were then instrumental in founding the monastery at Corvey in 815 on Saxon territory, which at least would have provided a fertile ground for the

reception of the Heliand.”° ,

In any case, whether composed at Fulda or Werden or Essen, the

Heliand adheres faithfully to the Christian Gospel while the work is couched in terms acceptable to a northern audience familiar with stories of Germanic mythology and historical culture presented in alliterative verse.

HELIAND VERSE | Pre-literate societies preserve their literary monuments in memorized,

oral form. Essential to long recitations is a mnemonic code to cue 18 Bernhard Bischoff, Review of Werden und der Heliand: Studien zur Kulturgeschichte der Abtei Werden und zur Herkunft des Heliand, by Richard Drogereit, Anzeiger fiir deutsches Altertum 66 (1952), 7-12.

19 Willy Krogmann, “Die Praefatio in librum aniquum lingua Saxonica Conscriptum,” in Der Heliand, ed. Jurgen Eichhoff and Irmengard Rauch, Wege der Forschung 321 (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1973), 25-26. 20 Gantert, Akkomodation [note 15]. For a summary of paleographic and other

evidence (or lack of the same) regarding the provenance of the Heliand, see Thomas L. Markey, A North Sea Germanic Reader (Munich: Fink, 1976), 259ff.

20

The Historical Setting of the Heliand

speakers when memory lags. The Germanic code had as a constant, over the span of centuries, alliteration and a fixed number of dynamic stresses per line. In the simplest and perhaps original form, the “long line” consisted of eight syllables containing four stresses, two in each “half line” on either side of a pause (Latin caesura; German Zdsur). Schematically, we can represent a basic line as

fo/> /°/

where the / indicates a stressed syllable and ~ an unstressed syllable.

Alliteration was superimposed on the pattern of stresses. (A certain leeway in filling the syllables, which is called Fillungsfretheit in German, was allowed.) The term alliteration (German Stabreim) indicates an initial “rhyme” of consonants or vowels with each other

in such a manner that certain specified stressed syllables each begin either with the same single consonant, with identical clusters of initial s- plus a consonant, or with initial vowels of any quality. (End rhyme, which affected unstressed syllables, did not play a role here and—in any case—was a later borrowing, perhaps from Latin hymns.) The key position was the first stress in the second “half line” (the third stressed syllable from the beginning of the “long line”), which should contain a “heavy” syllable defining the alliteration of the whole line. (A “heavy” syllable is one that has a stressed vowel followed by a consonant cluster or one that has a

: diphthong.) That is, if the third stressed syllable started with /h/, then the first stressed syllable had to, and commonly the second stressed syllable then also started with /h/ The fourth stress (second stress in the second “half line”) could not alliterate. An ancient example in North Germanic is found on the Gallehus horn from about AD 400:

ek hlewagastiR holtijar horna tawid6 ‘I Hlewagast, son of Holt, made this horn.’

QI

James E. Cathey

In the Gallehus inscription we hear alliteration on the /h/ in /horn-/ in the first and second stressed syllable, and we also find various unstressed syllables, including one before the first stress in /hlewa-/. The presence of an initial unstressed syllable (Greek anacrusis; German Auftakt), here /ek/, is thus also an ancient feature

of the poetic form, which is much used and expanded on in the Heliand—also before stressed syllables other than the first.

The Heliand does not, on the whole, represent an ideal of alliterative verse. Dynamic stress played less of a role in Old Saxon than in earlier stages of the Germanic dialects, and the author was constrained to proselytize with a theologically sound message as well as to entertain. We are thus confronted with a great mixture of lines varying from what might be termed “pure” alliterative to almost prose-like poetry. Within close proximity of each other one finds a variety of lines, as in the sequence 978-981. An example of a rather well-formed line in the historical alliterative tradition is:

978: dopte allan dag druhtfolc mikil In this line we see that the third (and “heavy”) syllable /druht/ in druhtfolc (a noun: ‘retainers, people’) sets the alliteration, which is carried through in the verb dépte ‘baptized’ and dag in the phrase

allan dag ‘all day’ in the first and second stresses. ‘The fourth stressed syllable, /mi-/ in mikil (an adjective: ‘great’) properly lacks alliteration. Line 979 is also fairly well-formed, although it contains a few extra unstressed syllables. This line alliterates on /w/, here again on a noun phrase (wualdand Krist ‘ruling Christ’) in the key third position: 979: uuerod an uuatere_ endi 6k uualdand Krist.

The next line, 980, is also a good example, this time alliterating in , /h/ on the third stress in the phrase handan sinun ‘with his hands’: | 980: héran heDencuning handun sinun.

22

The Historical Setting of the Heliand An example of a more typical line in the Heliand is 981, which properly

alliterates in /b/ but shows many more unstressed syllables:

981: an allaro bado them bezton endi im thar te bedu gihnég In this last example we find a fairly long anacrusis before the first alliterating syllable in bado and a very long unstressed anacrusis before the key alliteration in the third stressed syllable in bedu (“and bowed [gihnég]| there to him in prayer [te bedu|”). Although line 981 alliterates, it is so filled out with unaccented syllables that it is more

discursive while yet still true to the poetic convention. David R. McLintock has this to say about the form of the Heliand: The biblical epic in alliterative verse flourished in England, and the Heliand may have been composed in imitation of such works as a consequence of Anglo-Saxon participation in the conversion of the Saxons. A literary link with England is attested not

only by the Cotton manuscript but also by the existence of an Old English translation of the Genesis (the so-called Genesis B). Differences in verse technique may be explained partly by the

differing grammars of the two languages. Notable features of Old Saxon verse are density of alliteration and the proliferation of unstressed syllables, especially before the first ictus of the b

verse [the second half line].”! Much has been written about alliterative verse and about the language of the Heliand; Winfred P. Lehmann and Alger N. Doane have each

provided good overviews of the subject.”

21 David R. McLintock, “Heliand,” in Dictionary of the Middle Ages, ed. Joseph R. Strayer et al., 13 vols. (New York: Scribner, 1982-1989), 6:150.

22 Winfred P. Lehmann, “The Alliteration of Old Saxon Poetry,” in Der Heliand, ed. Jirgen Eichhoff and Irmengard Rauch, Wege der Forschung 321 (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1973), 144-76; Alger N. Doane, ed., The Saxon Genesis: An Edition of the West Saxon Genesis B and the Old Saxon Vatican Genesis (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1978).

23

James E. Cathey THE DATING OF THE HELIAND AND THE PRAEFATIO

The letter is found during a short period on/y in manuscripts from the abbey in Werden, which was founded around the year 800, namely in a Latin-Old Saxon glossary from about 850 and particularly in the

tax lists from about goo. We can also reconstruct this from the original manuscript of the third Vita Liudgers, the Frisian founder of Werden, which was written there in about 864.”

A certain form of large also appearing in the M and P manuscripts of the Heliand was written that way only in Werden up to the period in question.* This dating (post 850), which Drdégereit first establish in 1951,”° contradicts the previous accepted dating made on the basis of the Latin Praefatio. The Latin Praefatio et Versus is customarily divided into Praefatio A, Praefatio B, and Versus. Although the preface has not been seen physically attached to any manuscript of the Heliand—at least since

its publication by Flacius Illyricus in 1562—there is internal and external evidence that the two at one time were connected. The Praefatio A describes the commissioning of a translation of the New Testament with the words: Przecepit namq|ue] cuidam uiro de gente Saxonum, qui apud suos non ignobilis Vates habebatur, ut [uetus ac] nouum Testamentum

in Germanicam linguam poetice transferre studeret, quatenus non solum literatis, uerum etiam inliteratis sacra diuinorum preeceptorum lectio panderetur.

23 Richard Drégereit, “Die Heimat des Heliand” [note 15], 3:53:: “[B] begegnet wahrend einer kurzen Periode nur in Quellen der um 800 gegriindeten Abtei Werden, und zwar in einem lateinisch-altsachsischen Glossar von ca. 850 und

| vor allem in den Werdener Heberegistern von ca. 900. Wir kénnen dieses [Db] ferner noch fir die etwa 864 dort abgefafste Originalhandschrift der dritten Vita Liudgers, des friesischen Griinders Werdens, erschliefien.”

24 Ibid., 3:54. 25 Drdégereit, Werden und der Heliand {note 15}.

24 |

The Historical Setting of the Heliand

[For he ordered a certain man of the Saxon people who was deemed among them to be no inglorious bard to devote himself to a poetic translation into the German language of the Old and New Testaments so that the holy reading of the divine commandments might be diffused not only to the literate but also to the illiterate. |

This passage has been thoroughly dissected by Krogmann, among others, and revealed to have its faults, including words and phrases added at a date later than its original composition.” Thus the phrase vetus ac is perhaps among them, although it could be taken to refer to the Old Saxon Genesis if the Praefatio was introductory to both works. The grammatical subject of precepit is Ludouuicus pissimus Augustus, identified by most scholars as Louis the Pious (Ludwig der Fromme), who ruled from 812 to 840. The Praefatio thus seems to establish a terminus ante quem of Louis's death date, if the perfect form precepit is understood to mean that

the Heliand was commissioned during his lifetime—and if Ludouuicus pyssimus Augustus indeed refers to the Louis the Pious. Drégereit points

out, however, that a son of Louis the Pious, Louis the German, was called augustus in the year of his birth in 805, which—if this is the correct Ludouuicus—would push the possible dating of composition to his death in 876.”” Against this argument stand the dating of the manuscripts and

fragments, of which three can be restricted to about 850.” The prose Praefatio B is a rendering of Bede's story of Caedmon’s dream, in which the poet, a simple herdsman, while asleep receives divine impulse to compose in verse. The Versus relates basically the same poetically, establishing the modest credentials of the divinely

inspired, humble man of the countryside.” 26 Krogmann, “Die Praefatio” [note 19]. 27 Drdégereit, “Die Heimat des Heliand” [note 15]. 28 This introduction was written before the discovery of the Leipzig fragment in 2006. On the significance of the latter, see the articles printed in this volume. 29 See Theodore M. Andersson, “The Caedmon Fiction in the Heliand Preface,” PMLA (1974), 278-84.

25

James E. Cathey

The terminus post quem for the composition is generally linked to the composition of Hrabanus’s commentary on Matthew, which was finished in 822. The allusion to Caedmon and his dream-inspired talent as a poet serves to set the Heliand in a tradition of Germanic divinely-inspired eloquence. Richard North, in discussing the “unflawed gift” of poetry, cites Cynewulf’s Elene and claims that “Cynewulf’s poetic predecessors |. . .] before the conversion |. . .] believed in the divinely invested integrity of poetic skill.”*° The Heliand makes many allusions to the prestige and importance associated with speaking eloquently, which we can with some certainty view as an attribute of leadership as practiced in earlier times; I have expanded on this topos elsewhere.*! Of

, course, the Heliand itself was written in alliterative verse for reasons of prestige and as an aid to its reception among the Saxons. THE MANUSCRIPTS

The surviving manuscripts are the M in Munich, the C in the British Library, the P in Berlin (formerly in Prague), the S found at Straubing,

and the V at the Vatican. M and C descend from a common prior manuscript *CM, while P and V seem to stand apart from that and from each other. According to Taeger there are indications for a connection SM as against C but also for CS against M, a finding which demands further clarification.” Later, Taeger admits the possibility that identical mistakes in C and M could have been made independently by different scribes, and he also postulates a common line of

30 Richard North, Pagan Words and Christian Meanings (Amsterdam: Rodopi, 1991), 26.

31 James E. Cathey, “Die Rhetorik der Weisheit und Beredtheit im Héliand,” Literaturwissenschaftliches Jahrbuch 37 (1996), 31-46. ’ , 32 Burkhard Taeger, “Das Straubinger “Heliand’-Fragment: Philologische Untersuchungen,” Beitrdge zur Geschichte der deutschen Sprache und Literatur 101 (1979), 181-228.

26

The Historical Setting of the Heliand

descent connecting C and P, evidently posterior to *CM.* In any case, he correctly states: “A complete stemma is of course not completely

demonstrable when, beyond the two manuscripts, it is constructed only from fragments that do not overlap.”*4 From these manuscripts, chiefly C and M, 5,983 lines can be edited to make up our readings of the Heliand. There is evidence also for a lost manuscript *L from the library in Leipzig, about which very little is known. The Monacensis (M) manuscript in Munich dates from the ninth century and still contains seventy-five leafs. The original was larger

by at least six, although it is not clear by exactly how many, since the first is missing along with gaps after leafs 33, 37, 50, 57, 67, anda larger one after leaf 75. M is considered the best manuscript in spite of its missing beginning and ending in that its language is relatively consistent and is written in just one hand. Drogereit claims it for the scriptorium at Werden,* while Bischoff states flatly that “manuscript M was written at Corvey.”*

Cotton Caligula A. VII, the C manuscript, is younger than M and is likely to be from the tenth century. C contains more corrections than M and shows less consistency in its forms. Franconian features are more prominent, especially in the diphthongization of Saxon /e:/, spelled , to /ie/, spelled , and of /o:/, , to /uo/, , and in the third plural present indicative ending -ent. Robert Priebsch placed the site of composition of C in England at 33 See his introduction in Otto Behaghel, ed., Heliand und Genesis, 10th ed., rev. Burkhard Taeger, Aldeutsche Textbibliothek 4 (Tubingen: Max Niemeyer, 1996).

34 Taeger, “Das Straubinger ‘Heliand’-Fragment” [note 32], 187: “Ein vollstandiger Stammbaum ist natirlich nicht voll erweisbar, wenn er aufser aus zwei Handschriften nur aus Fragmenten konstruiert wird, die sich an keiner Stelle iberlagern.” 35 Drdgereit, Werden und der Heliand {note 15}. 36 Bernhard Bischoff, “Die Schriftheimat der Miinchener Heliand-Handschrift,” Beitriige zur Geschichte der deutschen Sprache und Literatur |Tibingen| 101 (1979), 161: “die Handschrift M ist in Corvey geschrieben.”

97 |

James E. Cathey

Winchester, perhaps by a Saxon scribe.” C contains the beginning of the Heliand, but lacks its ending. The manuscript in Berlin (P) consists of a single leaf from around the year 850 containing lines 958-1006. As noted above, it is allied to manuscript C and descended along with it from a postulated *CP.

The Vatican manuscript (V) contains excerpts from the Old Saxon Genesis along with lines 1279-1358 of the Heliand and is from

the third quarter of the ninth century. Since only V maintains the original reading of line 1303 as against the shortened version in M and the altered one in C, it is revealed as independent of and anterior to *CM.* Manuscript 8, which was discovered only in December of 1977

during a search for fragments of Carolingian manuscripts in the libraries of Straubing, is furthest removed from *CM, descending along with M from a postulated *MS. (A key to the relationship of S with M is line 508, where S has antheti—with an accent mark over the —M has anthehti, but C has an ehti.) The fragment is badly mangled, since it was used in the binding of a Weltchronik from 1493, but contains 25 lines grouped in bunches between lines 351 and 722.

S can be dated to around the year 850. THE FITTS

The entire Heliand was composed in what perhaps were seventyfive episodes or divisions, called “fitts” (German Fitten). The Latin Praefatio describes a way in which the poeta divided the episodic

composition into fitts, using the word in the accusative plural form vitteas as a direct loan from Old Saxon, but only the C manuscript indicates the division of the narrative into fitts, which was

the Anglo-Saxon practice at the time. Johannes Rathofer, in his 37 Robert Priebsch, The Heliand Manuscript Cotton Caligula A. VII in the British Museum: A Study (Oxford: Clarendon, 1925). 38 Behaghel, ed., Heliand und Genesis [note 33], xvii.

28

The Historical Setting of the Heliand

interesting but controversial book, describes a symmetry around the center that involves the thirteen central fitts (symbolizing Christ

and the Twelve) with the account of the Transfiguration (fitt 38) in the middle.** The whole work is, according to Rathofer, divided

into thirds by fitts in the proportion 31-13-31. He furthermore sees a second pattern in the form of a cross (a figura crucis) that involves the number four.” The first and final twenty-two fitts thus

constitute the horizontal bars of such a cross, while the central thirty-one form vertical bars of fifteen each, with fitt thirty-eight again in the center. ‘The first fitt itself is, according to Rathofer, symbolically structured with the numbers three (the Trinity) and four (the Four Evangelists). He adduces much material to support his hypotheses and, taken on their own terms, his arguments seem persuasive. Almost needless to say, Rathofer’s views have drawn

considerable fire. Alois Wolf concludes that “the author of the Heliand gave a numerical structure to this fitt. [. . .] The ‘sacred counting’ of epic variations can, however, not be confirmed.”* Gerhard Cordes, in a lengthy review, comes to the blunt conclusion:

“If you once again look through the arguments given above, not a single one holds up in spite of all the energy and care invested. The ‘plan of construction’ cannot be proven for the Heliand.”” 39 Johannes Rathofer, Der Heliand: Theologischer Sinn als tektonische Form. Vorbereitung und Grundlegung der Interpretation, Niederdeutsche Studien 9 (Cologne: Bohlau, 1962).

40 Ibid., 561. 41 Alois Wolf, “Beobachtungen zur ersten Fitte des Heliand,” Niederdeutsches Jahrbuch 98/99 (1975/1976), 20: “der Helianddichter [. . .| [hat] dieser Fitte zahlhafte Struktur verliehen. |. . .| Das [. . .] ‘geistliche Zahlen’ epischer Variationen bestatigte sich aber nicht.” 42 Gerhard Cordes, Review of Der Heliand: Theologischer Sinn als tektonische Form. Vorbereitung und Grundlegung der Interpretation, by Johannes Rathofer, Anzeiger

fiir deutsches Altertum 78 (1967), 78: “Wenn man die obigen Ausfithrungen noch einmal durchsieht, hat doch eigentlich—bei allem Fleif und aller Vorsicht—kein einziges Argument Stich gehalten. Der “Bauplan’ ist auch fiir den Heliand nicht

29

James E. Cathey

Anatoly Liberman points out that “the poem is too long to be read straight through from beginning to end, so its attractiveness must have been based on something other than number symbolism

and the like.“# Murphy sees the Transfiguration as being at the center of the narrative but that “due to the formal unwieldiness of the Gospel story itself, the poet could not order the entirety of the Gospel’s incidents into parallel episodes in his composition, but rather selected a number of them based on the his spiritual | insight into their appropriateness.’** Murphy states in reference to the Transfiguration on the mountaintop that it suggests two other mountain scenes in the epic in which the author brings the Gospel story to a striking climax in Germanic imagery: the epic “battle scene’ on Mt. Olivet, in which Peter defends his Chieftain with the sword, and the brilliant recasting

of Christ’s teachings in Germanic terms in the Sermon on the Mount. ‘The scene on Mt. Olivet is in song 58, exactly twenty songs away from the Transfiguration’s song [fitt 38], and the Sermon on the Mount reaches the conclusion of its first part in song 18—also twenty songs away from song 38. I do not think that this placement is accidental.”

Murphy then proposes his own scheme of parallel episodes, advocating a structure based on a symmetrical arrangement around the scenes brilliantly illuminated on the three mountains with images of light.‘

zu beweisen.” 43 Anatoly Liberman, “Heliand,” in Dictionary of Literary Biography, vol. 148, ed. Will Hasty and James Hardin (New York: Gale Research, 1995), 194. 44 G. Ronald Murphy, The Heliand: The Saxon Gospel (New York: Oxford UP, 1992), 222.

46 Ibid., 229. | 45 Ibid., 224.

30

The Historical Setting of the Heliand A COMPARISON OF THE M AND C MANUSCRIPTS

Here we present a side-by-side comparison of the same excerpt—lines 2906b to 2919a—in order to illustrate particularly the kinds of ortho-

graphic distinctions that obtain between them. The sample is taken from the edition of Eduard Sievers, who provides facing pages that, where possible, show matching lines in manuscripts M and C; also

compare these lines with those in the normalization provided in Behaghel and Taeger's edition, which is also printed below.”

_ ManuscriptM == ManuscriptC

The first difference to strike one is in the spelling. Not only do these two versions differ from each other, but they are also different from

_ the following: |

47 Eduard Sievers, ed., Heliand (Halle: Waisenhaus, 1878); Behaghel, ed., Heliand und Genesis [note 33].

31

| James E. Cathey Tho létun sie suidean str6m, hoh hurnidskip hluttron dideon, skédan skir uuater. Skéd lioht dages, sunne uuardan sedle;__ the séolidandean

2910 naht nedulo biuuarp; ndadidun erlos forduuardes an fl6d;_ uuar6d thiu fiorde tid thera nahtes cuman —neriendo Crist

uuarode thea uudglidand -: thé uuard uuind mikil,

, hoh uueder afhaben: hlamodun ddeon, 2915 stroman stamne;_ stridium feridun thea uueros uuider uuinde, uuas im uuréd hugi, sebdo sorgono ful: sel6on ni uuandun lagulidandea an land cumen thurh thes uuederes geuuin.

A careful comparison will give an inkling into the choices made in the normalized text last edited by Taeger. Note, for example, the spelling in uuarth in C (line 2911) as against as in wuard in M, which is generally resolved in ; or as against in nebulo/

neflu in line 2910 that represents the phoneme /D/ The long vowel phoneme spelled as in our text appears either unmarked as or as the Franconian diphthong , for example Thuo in line 2906. The same holds for vs. in lietun (2906), which is resolved as long in the normalized text. It is the presence

of the contrasting spellings of and that really shows that unmarked and in parallel positions are long. Other factors played a role in normalization, including etymological knowledge from related languages. As we see from the strange blunder scirana uuatar in line 2908

of the C manuscript, with a masculine accusative ending on an adjective referring to a neuter singular noun, editors also had to correct some syntactical problems. The choice between “storm” and “stream” (storm and strom) and between “on the stream” and “on the

32

The Historical Setting of the Heliand

stern’ (an strome vs. an stamne) in line 2915 offered a different sort of editorial conundrum. Walther Mitzka states in the eighth edition of Behaghel’s Heliand und Genesis (Altdeutsche Textbibliothek 4): “The edition by Sievers,

which provides exact reproductions of M and C, must be the point of departure for all linguistic examinations. The two main manuscripts do not agree in their sounds and forms; we do not know which

of them is closer to the language of the original.”* It is somewhat ironic, then, that Behaghel’s version has since become the standard to which one appeals.

48 Walther Mitzka, Introduction to Otto Behaghel, ed., Heliand und Genesis, 8th ed., rev. Mitzka, Altdeutsche Textbibliothek 4 (Tubingen: Max Niemeyer, 1965), xiv: “Die Ausgabe von Sievers, die genaue Abdriicke von M und C liefert,

hat fir alle sprachlichen Untersuchungen den Ausgangspunkt zu bilden. Die beiden Haupthandschriften stimmen in ihren Lauten und Formen nicht tiberein; welche von ihnen der Sprache des Originals naher steht, wissen wir nicht.”

33

THE OLD SAXON HELIAND' G. Ronald Murphy

_ INTRODUCTION

he Heliand is over a thousand years old, and is the oldest epic

| ) work of German literature, antedating the Nibelungenlied by four centuries. It consists of approximately 6,000 lines of alliterative verse, twice the length of Beowulf, which shares just enough imagery and poetic phraseology with the Heliand that it might

possibly be contemporary. The Heliand was written in Old Saxon,? possibly at the behest of the emperor Louis the Pious (Ludwig der Fromme), in the first half of the ninth century, around the year AD 830, near the beginning of the era of the Viking raids. That it is in continental Low German has probably been the reason for its neglect within the context of German literary history, but such neglect is hard to justify. The author has never been identified. His purpose seems to have been to make the Gospel story completely accessible 1 Originally published in Early Germanic Literature and Culture, ed. Brian Murdoch and Malcolm Read, The Camden House History of German Literature 1 (Rochester: Camden House, 2004), 263-83. 2 F¥orselections from the Old Saxon text with annotations and commentary, see James E. Cathey, ed., Héliand: Text and Commentary, Medieval European Studies 2 (Morgantown: University of West Virginia Press, 2002). The standard edition of the entire Old Saxon text is given in note 7. There is a collection of essays on the text edited by Jiirgen Eichhoff and Irmengard Rauch, Der Heliand, Wege der Forschung 321 (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1973).

34

The Old Saxon Heliand

and appealing to the Saxons through a depiction of Christ’s life in the poetry of the North, recasting Jesus himself and his followers as Saxons, and thus to overcome Saxon ambivalence toward Christ caused by forced conversion to Christianity. That forced conversion was effected through thirty-three years of well-chronicled violence on the part of the Franks under Charlemagne, and counter-violence by the Saxons under Widukind, and ended with the final but protracted defeat of the Saxons.? There must have still been resentment among the Saxons at the time of the composition of the Heliand since there was a revolt of the Saxon stellinga, what we might call the lower social castes, during this period. Whoever the poet of the Heliand was, he had his task cut out for him. His masterpiece shows that he was astonishingly gifted at intercultural communication in the religious realm. By the power of his imagination the poet-monk (perhaps also ex-warrior) created a

unique cultural synthesis between Christianity and Germanic warrior society — a synthesis that would plant the seed that would one day blossom in the full-blown culture of knighthood and become the foundation of medieval Europe.‘ The Heliand has come down to us in two almost complete manu-

script versions, one housed now in Munich at the Bavarian State Library, designated M, and the other in London at the British Library, designated C. Neither is held to be the author's original of circa 830,

which was most likely composed by a monk in Fulda acting under the ecumenical aegis of the abbot (H)Rabanus Maurus.’ It is now 3 For further detail see G. Ronald Murphy, The Saxon Savior: The Germanic Transformation of the Gospel in the Ninth-Century Heliand (New York: Oxford UP, 1990), 11-31.

4 Fora description of the mutual influence of Germanic culture and Christianity from a socio-historical point of view, see James C. Russell, The Germanization of Early Medieval Christianity (New York: Oxford UP, 1994).

5 Some further circumstantial evidence for the association of the Heliand with Fulda and with the patronage of Rabanus Maurus is the provenance of the very early Heliand fragment V (at the Vatican), which is believed to predate

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G. Ronald Murphy

lost. M is the older of the two extant manuscripts and believed to have been written in the second half of the ninth century, circa 850, in Corvey.* C is believed to have been written about a hundred years

later, circa 950-1000, at an East Anglian monastery in England. Though later than M, C seems to have kept more to the original division of the Heliand into fitts or songs.

The manuscript in Munich is in such excellent condition that one could almost believe it is a modern reproduction; its excellent condition seems to stem from the high quality calfskin on which it was written. In several places neumes have been inserted above the text, giving sure evidence that the Heliand was chanted, as is also implied in the Praefatio. Unfortunately, the last two fitts are missing from M. In addition to the two manuscripts, there are also four fragments, named after their place of finding: P from Prague, V at the Vatican, S from the binding of a book held in the Jesuit high school in Straubing, and the recently discovered Leipzig fragment, L.’ The existence of four separate fragments as well as the two manuscripts, the one copied at Corvey (M) and the other at a monastery in East Anglia (C), as well as the presence of neumes in the texts, give evidence

of widespread readership and use both in Germany and England in the ninth and tenth centuries and possibly beyond. We know that

Martin Luther had a copy, and that it was used as a justification for the existence of a tradition of translating the Gospels into the — M and G, and is much closer to the original, stemming from the first half of the ninth century — V is from Mainz. Rabanus, abbot of Fulda and supporter of Louis the Pious, was made archbishop of Mainz after he had been abbot of

Fulda from 822 to 841. :

6 See Bernhard Bischoff’s discussion in “Die Schriftheimat der Mtinchener Heliand-Handschrift,” Beitrdge zur Geschichte der deutschen Sprache und Literatur , [Tubingen] 101 (1979), 161-70.

7 For a suggestion concerning the relationship of the manuscript texts — L excluded — see Otto Behaghel, ed., Heliand und Genesis, 10th ed., rev. Burkhard | Taeger, Altdeutsche Textbibliothek 4 (Tiibingen: Max Niemeyer, 1996), xviii-

xxix. Text citations are from this edition. Italicized words indicate existing manuscript variants. 36

The Old Saxon Heliand

vernacular. It even seems that Luther admired the Heliand’s version of the angel’s greeting to Mary as “full of grace.” In the Heliand this becomes thu bist thinon herron lof (literally: you are dear to your lord, or your lord is fond of you). He uses this example to ridicule the idea

of anyone being literally full of grace, as if he or she were a beer vat, and as if grace were something that could be poured into them. He insists instead on his preference for the German du bist deinem Herren lieb taken — perhaps — from the Heliand, but unfortunately without attribution. Where was the Heliand used? The audience of the Heliand was probably to be found in mead hall and monastery. The epic poem seems not to have been designed for use in the church as part of official worship, but seems intended to bring the Gospel home to the Saxons in a poetic milieu, in a more familiar environment like the mead hall, in order to help the Saxons cease their vacillation between their loyalty to the sagas of Wodan and ‘Thor, and loyalty to the epic of the mighty Christ. Some internal evidence, as well as liturgical tradition, would thus indicate that the Heliand epic was designed for after-dinner singing — in the poetic tradition of the scop, who sang in the mead hall of the nobility, and in Benedictine tradition in the monastic refectory of the monks.

The Heliand was first published by printing press in 1830, by Johann Andreas Schmeller, a millennium after its composition, and immediately had an influence on among others, the work of the Brothers Grimm. ‘The first edition was dedicated by Schmeller to Jacob

Grimm, and was read by Wilhelm Grimm when he was working on the editing and composition of the fairy tales. The Heliand has also been used by German nationalists in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries for their own pan-Germanic purposes, completely ignoring the great poem’s historical context and Christian-Saxon origin.

The poetic technique of the author is centered on the use of analogy. In order to Saxonize the Gospel story, the author needed to find appropriate parallels for places and events of the evangelists’ narrative. With regard to Bethlehem and Nazareth, for example, he

37

G. Ronald Murphy

is not interested in asking pilgrims what these places actually looked like. Instead, he attaches the Saxon word burg to each one. A burg at that time was a hill-fort, a local hilltop fortified with earthen embankments crowned with a palisade, a heavy wooden wall of sharpened pilings. Inside the fort was the hall of the chieftain. Outside the fort, often at the foot of the hill, were the smaller thatched-roof houses of those who were not of the warrior class. The warrior-nobility prided themselves, if we go by the account in the Heliand’s version of the nativity, on being born within the walls of the hill-fort. Some easier geographic analogies are readily provided by the location of Jesus's

activities by the Sea of Galilee and the presence of the North Sea. Fishing scenes are frequent enough in the Gospel itself; the Heliand strengthens them by adding details of the apostles working on the

nets and of implying that they are using the seine technique that must have been popular in the river regions of the north. Finally the author finds not only cultural equivalencies for the events of the Gospel story, but often he sets them in parallel to a literal translation which he gives in the following line. “Your lord is fond of

you is followed by “woman full of grace.” The poetic power of the Heliand lies in the unexpected parallel imagery and in the charm created by hearing northern equivalents for the Mediterranean concepts of the Bible in such close proximity to each other. The technique itself is biblical, and can be found in the Psalms. For example, in ancient Hebrew poetry, mountain can be “rhymed” with Ail] not on the similarity of sound, but of similarity of image. Likewise, snow can be rhymed with hail, fish with whales, and more familiarly, “he leads me beside the still waters” can be rhymed with “he gave me repose.”

I call this technique concept alliteration. The Saxons did not know or practice Roman crucifixion, but they did punish criminals and make an offering to Wodan by hanging criminals and animals from the branches of sacred trees.® In the Heliand, therefore, crucifixion 8 See the account by Adam of Bremen who came to Bremen in 1066 and wrote

of Germanic religious customs that were still practiced in his time, especially ,

38

The Old Saxon Heliand

is “rhymed” in the following line with hanging. The arrogant thief crucified alongside Christ is made in the Heliand to say “get down from the cross, slip out of the rope.” The poet worked in a number of categories in order to create a Saxon poetic equivalent to the Gospel. Since he was using the Diatessaron, a synthesis of the four Gospel narratives compiled originally in Greek by Tatian, a second-century Syrian Christian, . and subsequently translated into Latin and most of the European

vernaculars, including Old High German, he had all the known pericopes (“readings,” biblical narrative units) of the story at hand,

and he chose to leave out very few, notably those that had to do with examples that seemed to justify the taking of interest on loans. First, warrior equivalencies will be examined; second, mythological incorporations; third, magic; fourth, epic structure; and, fifth, the enormous role of light in the Heliand. WARRIOR CULTURE IN THE POEM

The audience of the Heliand lived in an early feudal environment and

thus might not have found the concept of a rabbi and his disciples comprehensible. ‘The author changes rabbi to chieftain, drohtin, and | disciples to gisidos, the young warrior companions of a chieftain. This translation makes the Gospel more at home sociologically, but it also makes the relationship of Christ to his disciples not one of teacher to students, but military leader to personal bodyguard. What is required then of disciples, faith in their teacher, becomes fidelity to one’s leader in the Heliand. This Germanic reading of faith

as personal fidelity will have far-reaching consequences that will extend from the piety of the medieval crusader to the Reformation’s notion of faith. at the temple in Uppsala, Sweden: History of the Archbishops of Hamburg-Bremen,

trans. Francis J. Tschan, Records of Western Civilization (New York: Columbia

UP, 1959; repr. 2002), 10-11, 207-08. | 39

G. Ronald Murphy

The duty of a warrior disciple is laid out both in the birth of John the Baptist and in the scene of Peter’s drawing his sword at Jesus's arrest on Olivet. When the angel announces the birth of John

significant: | |

the Baptist to his father Zachary in the temple he adds something [God] Hét that ic thi scol sagdi, that it scolde gisid uuesan heDancuninges, hét that git it helden uuel, tuhin thurh treuua, quad that he im tiras so filu an godes rikea forgeBan uueldi. (129-32)

[God said that I should say to you that your child will be a warrior-companion of the King of Heaven. He said that you and your wife should care for him well and bring him up on loyalty, and that He would grant him many honors in God’s kingdom|?

In this remarkable passage we have the earliest known blending of Germanic warrior virtue with Christian religion. God the All-Ruler is made to request that John be raised specifically to practice the warrior virtue of treuwa, unflinching loyalty in battle to one’s chieftain. God’s reason is that He wishes to make John his gesid. In the original Old Saxon there is a truly amazing linkage of two cultural worlds in two words: God wishes to make John a gesid hebancuninges, a warrior | companion of the King of Heaven. Discipleship has been reconceived as the author goes on to say that John’s chieftain will be Christ, and John will be Aristes gesid, a warrior-companion of Jesus.

| The feudal world required reciprocity between chieftain and warrior-companion, and the reciprocal relationship on the part of the chieftain was that he care for his men, a care which the Heliand calls protection and love. ‘Thus, it does not come as a total surprise that,

when Christ is born and the shepherds have come and gone from the Christmas scene in Bethlehem, Mary is described in the Gospel 9 All English translations from the Heliand are taken from G. Ronald Murphy, trans., The Heliand: The Saxon Gospel (New York: Oxford UP, 1992).

, 40

The Old Saxon Heliand

and in the Heliand as pondering all these things in her heart, and in the Heliand the poet adds that Jesus will be raised on the reciprocal virtue to John’s treuwa, telling us how the mother — the loveliest of ladies — brought up the chieftain of many men, the holy heavenly child, on love, minnea (fitt 6). St. Peter, throughout the Heliand, is made into the ideal war-

rior companion of Christ. When Peter is about to drown due to lack of faith, or when he disowns Christ three times as the cock crows, or when he draws his sword to defend Christ, all are made into major epic scenes in the Heliand. From the scene of his walking on the waters: the séolidandean

naht nedulo biuuarp; nadidun erlos forduuardes an flod; uuard thiu fiorde tid thera nahtescuman -— neriendo Crist uuarode thea uuaglidand -: tho uuard uuind mikil, hoh uueder afhaben: hlamodun tdeon, strOm an stamne; _ stridiun feridun

thea uueros uuider uuinde... Tho gisahun sie uualdand Krist an themu sée uppan = selbum gangan,

faran an fadion... “Nu gi mddes sculun

fastes fahen; ne si iu forht hugi, gibariad gi baldlico: ik bium that barn godes, is selbes sunu,_ the iu uuid thesumu sée scal, mundon uuid thesan meristré6m.” (2909-31) | Night wrapped the seafarers in fog. The earls daringly kept on sailing over the waters. The fourth hour of the night had come — Christ the Helper was guarding the wave-riders — and the wind began to blow powerfully. A great storm arose, the waves of the sea roared against the bow stem post, the men fought to steer the boat into the wind . . . then they saw the Ruler himself walking

4l

G. Ronald Murphy on the sea, traveling on foot... . “Now you should be steadfast and brave, do not be fearful-minded, be courageous! I am the Child of God, his own Son, and I will defend you against the sea and protect you from the ocean waves.” |

Jesus proclaims that he is aware of his duty to his men to extend his protection to them, even if the enemy is an ocean storm. ‘Then Peter, his good thane, calls overboard to Christ and asks him to command him to come across the waves to him, *. . . tell me to walk to You across this seaway, dry across the deep water, if You are my chieftain, protector of many people.” Not only does Christ as chieftain of St. Peter have the right to tell him to come to him, but as chieftain, he also has the obligation to protect Peter as one of his men. As in the Gospel story, Peter does well walking on the water until he begins

to doubt. The Heliand author makes the scene more vivid for his North Sea audience: ... he [Peter] 7mu an his mdde bigan

andraden diap uuater, tho he driten gisah thene uuég mid uuindu: uundun ina ideon, hoh str6m unbihring. Reht so he tho an is hugdi tuehode, sO uuék imu that uuater under, enti he an thene uuag innan, sank an thene séostr6m, endi Ae hriop san after thiu gadhon te themu godes sunie_ endi gerno bad

that he ine thé generidi, thé he an nédiun uuas, | thegan an gethuinge. ‘Thiodo drohtin antfeng ine midis fadmum_ enti fragode sana, te hui he thd getuehodi . . .

48 Tho nam ine alomahtig,

hélag bihandun: tho uuard imu eft hlutter uuater fast under fOtun, endi sie an fadi samad bedea gengun, antat sie obar bord skipes stOpun fan themu stréme. (2942-61)

The Old Saxon Heliand | [. .. in his emotions Peter began to feel the fear of deep water as he watched the waves being driven by the wind. ‘The waves

| wound around him, the high seas surrounded the man. Just at that moment doubt came into his mind. The water underneath

him became soft and he sank into a wave, he sank into the streaming sea! Very soon after that he called out quickly, asking earnestly that Christ rescue him, since he, his thane, was in distress and danger. The chieftain of peoples caught him with his outstretched arms and asked him immediately why he doubted.

... Then the holy, all-mighty One took him by the hand and all at once clear water became solid under his feet, and they went together on foot, both of them, walking, until they climbed on board the boat from the sea.|

The author has no difficulty recognizing, through Peter, the doubt that lay in the minds of many of the Saxons concerning the ability of their new chieftain, Christ, to protect them, but the author has

shown them that Christ is not only willing to rescue them from death, drowning, but is also heartfelt enough to go hand in hand, something the author has touchingly inserted, walking with them, to the boat where all is safe and the storm is over. The Heliand author might have been expected to delete the incident of Peter’s triple denial of Christ, but he does not, true as it is to the Saxon warriors own state of mind and behavior at the author's time. After having related the scene, however, he adds a compassionate explanation of Peter, which is his own creation: Than ni thurbun thes liudio barn, uueros uundrioan, behui it uueldi god, that s6 lioben man led gistddi, that he s6 hénlico hérron sines thurh thera thiuun uuord, thegno snellost farl6gnide sé liobes: it uuas al bi thesun liudiun giduan, firiho barnun te frumu. He uuelde ina te furiston déan, hérost oBar is hiuuiski, helag drohtin:

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G. Ronald Murphy

lét ina gekunnon, huilike craft habet the mennisca méd_ ano the maht godes;

lét ina gesundion, that he sidor thiu bet liudiun gil6tdi, huod liof is thar manno gihuilicumu, than he mén gefrumit,

that maninaalate lédes thinges... (5023-36) [People should not be amazed, warriors should not wonder, why God would have wanted such a loveable man and powerful

thane to have such an evil thing happen to him (especially in the world of feudal loyalty) as to deny his beloved Chieftain so shamefully because of a servant-girl’s words. It was done for the sake of those people, for the sake of the sons of men. The holy Chieftain intended to make Peter the first man in the leadership of his household, and wanted Peter to realize how much strength

_ there is in the human spirit without the power of God. He let Peter commit sin so that afterward he would better appreciate people, how all human beings love to be forgiven when they have done something wrong... |

No scene in the Heliand makes such a warrior-like impression as when one of Jesus's disciple/warriors finally draws a sword in his chieftain’s defense. This scene may well be the one that helped make Peter the poet’s favorite, and almost makes Peter sound like a Viking berserker: Tho gibolgan uuard

snel suerdthegan Simon Petrus uuell imu innan hugi, that he ni mahte énig uuord sprekan: sO harm uuard imu anishertan, that man is hérron that

binden uuelde. ‘Tho he gibolgan geng, suido thristmdd thegan for is thiodan standen hard for is hérron: ni uuas imu is hugi tuifli, bl66 an is breostun, ac he is bil atoh,

| suerd bisidu, slog imu tegegnes an thene furiston fiund folmo crafto,

44

The Old Saxon Heliand

that tho Malchus uuard makeas eggiun, an thea suidaron half suerdu gimAalod:

thiu hlust uuard imu farhauuan, he uuard an that hébid uund, that imu herudrorag hlear endi 6re beniuundun brast: bldd aftar sprang uuell fan uundun. Tho uuas an is uuangun scard

the furisto thero fiundo. Thé stéd that folc an rim: |

andrédun im thes billes biti. (4865-82) (Then Simon Peter, the mighty, noble swordsman flew into a rage;

his mind was in such turmoil that he could not speak a single word. His heart became intensely bitter because they wanted to tie up his Lord there. So he strode over angrily, that very daring thane, to stand in front of his commander, right in front of his

Lord. No doubting in him, no fearful hesitation in his chest, | he drew his blade and struck straight ahead at the first man of the enemy with all the strength in his hands, so that Malchus was cut and wounded on the right side by the sword! His ear was chopped off, he was so badly wounded in the head that his cheek and ear burst open with a mortal wound! Blood gushed out, pouring from the wound! The men stood back — they were afraid of the slash of the sword. |

This is quite an expansion of the modest account in the Gospel, but much more in line with the grim battles in Beowulf and the Battle of Maldon.” To make for a better epic conflict, the religious enemies of Christ in the Gospel, the Sadducees, the Pharisees, and the Torah scholars, have been combined by the author to create one hostile enemy military force, the Jewish army. This combination is required

both by good epic form, which requires a powerful antagonist, and | by what I presume was the Saxons’ general unfamiliarity with the Jews of their day, much less with the Jewish sects of the first century. The Heliand author has to give some identity to the Jewish “enemy 10 See “The Final Battle” in Murphy, The Saxon Savior [note 3], 95-117.

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G. Ronald Murphy

force” and he does so in accord with northern European prejudices by describing them repeatedly as competent warriors but as “south-

ern people, sneaky.”" | MYTHOLOGICAL INCORPORATIONS

The poet-monk who wrote the Heliand was quite familiar with Germanic

mythology. Not only did he incorporate elements into the Heliand Gospel, he even tackled the theological problem of the role of fate, the highest Germanic religious power, in his Christian worldview. To begin with a familiar object from later German storytelling, the

| Heliand has the earliest instance of the invisibility cape or Tarnkappe, used by Siegfried in the Nibelungenlied. In the Heliand it is a magic helmet, the helidhelm, and the author finds a place for it in the scene in which Pilate’s wife is having bad dreams about her husband’s actions toward his famous prisoner. The magic helmet is being worn by Satan to conceal his identity. He has come from hell with it to attempt to prevent the salvation of the world by opposing the crucifixion of Christ (fitt 65). Even hell (he/ in the Heliand), is the damp dark place of Germanic mythology and Beowulf’s monsters; it is not the fiery inferno of the Mediterranean tradition. Heaven, too, will be described as a place of light and green meadows (of Valhalla). Fate as an absolute force beyond gods and men must have been a special challenge to the author. The three blind women, the Norns, who sit under the tree at the edge of the well of time, spin, measure, and cut the thread of all things. It would seem that a missionary would have to treat such a force as antithetical to the Trinity, but the Heliand 11 The only place in the Heliand where contemporary Jews come under condemnation may be in the scene of the cleansing of the temple (fitt 45). Here the author criticizes Jews for being people who accept interest on loans, for practicing usury. Charlemagne had recently forbidden the practice of usury throughout the empire, and the Heliand condemns the practice in very absolute terms as unreht enfald, pure injustice.

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The Old Saxon Heliand

author finds a place for “the workings of fate” and for its invisible spirit, ttme. When John the Baptist is born the author writes: . Tho uuard san aftar thiu maht godes, gicidid is craft mikil: uuard thiu gudn ocan, idis an ira eldiu: scolda im erDiuuard, suido godcund gumo__ gibidig uuerdan,

_barnan burgun. Béd aftar thiu that uuif wuirdigiscapu. Scred the uuintar ford, geng thes géres gital. Johannes quam an

an liudeo lioht. (192-99) | [Soon thereafter the power of God, his might strength, was felt: the wife (Elizabeth), a woman in her old age, became pregnant — soon the husband, that godly man, would have an heir, an infant boy born in the hill-fort. The woman awaited the workings of fate. The winter skidded by and the year measured its way past. John came to the light of mankind.]

Fate has been allotted a place in the Heliand’s scheme of things; it takes care of measuring the nine months of pregnancy. Fate attends to timing and to the accidentals, the color of John’s hair, even his fingernails and the fairness of his skin. All the very things, one might

reflect, that one day will become the realm of biology and history are not excluded but are “co-workers” with God. Even the time of the passion and death of Christ are determined by the divine will working with fate. In the above scene when Peter draws his sword to prevent Christ's capture, when Christ tells him, in the Gospel, to sheath his sword because he who lives by the sword will die by the sword, this is explained in the Heliand to have Christ clearly give fate its due:

, Th6 sprak that barn godes selbo te Simon Petruse, hét that he is suerd dedi skarp an skédia: “ef ik uuid thesa scola uueldi,” quad he, “uuid theses uuerodes geuuin uuigsaca frummien,

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that manodiik thene mareon mahtigne god, hélagne fader an himilrikea, that he mi s6 managan engil herod obBana sandi uuiges sO uuisen, so ni mahtin iro uudpanthreki man adégen: iro ni stédi gio sulic megin samad, folkes gefastnod, that im iro ferh aftar thiu uuerden mahti. Ac it haBad uualdand god, alomahtig fader an odar gimarkot, that uui githoloian sculun, 6 huat s6 ids thius thioda to

bittres brengit: ni sculun ts belgan uuiht, uurédean uuid iro geuuinne; huand so hue so uuapno nid, grimman gérheti uuili gerno frummien,

he suiltit imu eff suerdes eggiun, | doit im bidréregan: uui mid tsun dadiun ni sculun uuiht auuerdian.” (4882-4900)

[Then the Son of God spoke to Simon Peter and told him to put his sharp sword back into its sheath. “If I wanted to put up a fight against the attack of this band of warriors, I would make ©

the great and might God, the holy Father in the kingdom of

heaven, aware of it so that he would send me so many angels | wise in warfare that no human beings could stand up to the force

of their weapons. But, the ruling God, the all-mighty Father, , has determined it differently: we are to bear whatever bitter things this people does to us. We are not to become enraged or wrathful against their violence, since whoever is eager and willing to practice the weapon’s hatred, cruel spear-fighting, is often himself killed by the edge of the sword and dies dripping in his own blood. We cannot by our own deeds avert anything. | (emphasis mine)

There is more than a little fatalism that will enter Germanic Christianity

through the Heliand, since Christ himself is made to express senti-

ments that come close to equating fate, the events of this world, regardless of their bitterness, as part of the will of God. It is useless to resist them.

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The Old Saxon Heliand

Even the raising of Lazarus from the dead, which shows the superiority of Christ over fate, is done with fate’s cooperation (fitt 49). The real test of course is the time of the death of Christ, and that is given the same treatment, with a twist. Christ is going to overturn fate by rising from the dead and unlocking the door to the road to heaven. The author knows his audience, and he knows that they want to have more assurance concerning Christ’s non-resistance

to fate and the attacking Jewish army, so he once again creates an apologetic for Christ’s actions: Uuerod Iudeono sO manag mislic thing an mahtiga Crist sagdun te sundiun. He suigondi stuod thuru 6dmuodi, ne antuuordida niouutht uuid iro uurédun uuord: uuolda thesa uuerold alla I6sian mid is libu: _bithiu liet hie ina thia lédun thiod uuégian te uundron, all so iro uuillio geng:

ni uuoldaim opanlico allon cidian Judeo liudeon, that hie uuas god sel6o; Huand uuissin sia that te uudron, that hie sulica giuuald habdi obar theson middilgard, than uurdi im iro muodseBo giblodit an iro brioston: than ne gidorstin sia that barn godes handon anthrinan: than ni uuurdi hebdanriki, antlocan liohto mést _ liudio barnon. Bethiu mé6 hie is s6 an is muode, ne Jét that manno folc uuitan, huat sia uuarahtun. Thiu uurd nahida thuo, mari maht godes_endi middi dag, that sia thie ferahquala frummian scoldun. (5379-96)

[The Jewish people said many different sinful things about mighty Christ. He stood there, keeping silent in patient humility. He did not answer their hostile words, he wanted to free the whole world with his life — that is why he let the evil clan subject him to whatever terrible torture they desired. He did not

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G. Ronald Murphy want to let all the Jewish people know openly that he was God Himself. For, if they really knew how much power he had over this middle world, their feelings would turn cowardly within their breasts and they would never dare to lay their hands on the Son of God, and the kingdom of heaven, the brightest of worlds, would never be unlocked to the sons of men. Because of

this, he hid it in his heart and did not let the human clan know what they were doing. Fate was coming closer then, and the great power of God, and midday, when they were to bring his life-spirit to its death agony.| (emphasis mine)

It seems that the Jews, as a stand-in for the human race, are the instruments of fate, but they could be deflected by intimidation, and so Christ conceals his identity from them. Meanwhile coming closer are fate, God, and midday. As in the case of the date of birth of John the Baptist, the nine-month period was within the realm of fate, and so also is the decision that the crucifixion should be on Friday and at noon. There is even an iconographic representation of Christ that leans on Germanic religious mythology. Wodan is typically pictured with two ravens, Mind and Memory, hugin and munin, on his shoulder. They are the heart of his awareness of what is going on in middelgard.

They fly about during the day observing the comings and goings of men and gods, and then return to their master to whisper in his ear all that they have observed. It seems that the Heliand author could not resist feeling that this function of Wodan’s ravens seemed quite similar to the role of the dove, the Holy Spirit. ‘The scene that

is just made for his use is the incident of the baptism of Christ in the Jordan by John the Baptist. In Luke 3, as Christ comes up out of the waters a voice says “This is my beloved Son,” and John says that he saw the Holy Spirit coming down from heaven upon Jesus in the form of a dove which remained above him (mansit super eum, in Tatian). In the Heliand the dove does not remain vaguely “above him”:

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The Old Saxon Heliand Krist up giuuét fagar fon them fléde, fridubarn godes, liof liudio uuard. S6 he thé that land afstop, so anthlidun tho himiles doru, endi quam the hélago gést fon them alouualdon obane te Kriste: — uuas im an gilicnissie . Jungras fugles,

diurlicara dibun — endi sat im uppan uses drohtines ahslu, uuonoda im obar them uualdandes barne. (982-89)

[Christ came up radiant out of the water, the Peace-Child of God, the beloved Protector of people. As he stepped out onto the land, the doors of heaven opened up and the Holy Spirit came down from the All-Ruler above to Christ — it was like a powerful bird, a magnificent dove — and it sat upon our Chieftain’s shoulder, remaining over the Ruler’s Child]?

MAGICAL ELEMENTS

When it comes to finding equivalents for miraculous or sacramental incidents such as the multiplication of the loaves, or the institution of the Eucharist, or even explaining the divine inspiration of scripture, the poet seems to have had no difficulty. He simply alluded to the magic with which his audience was already familiar. Germanic religion was filled with magic spells and enchantments, magic objects

that retained their ability to perform supernatural feats long after _ their connection to the god who made them had been severed. J. R. R. Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings trilogy shows how a poet in the twenti-

eth century can still draw successfully upon the ancient GermanoChristian forms of magic. Consider the origin of the runes, which are said to have been seized from the depths of the well of fate as Wodan hung himself as a sacrifice to divine the nature of reality. He 12 Fora fuller look at the versions in Tatian and Old High German, see Murphy, The Saxon Savior [note 3], 77-80.

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| reached down and grasped the runes, later giving them to mankind. Therefore writing itself is a divine institution and each letter can be used for magic. This makes the task of the Heliand poet easier. How does he explain that the Lord’s Prayer is a divine entity, taught by the God-man himself? He simply alludes to the story of Wodan and the runes. In the Gospel the disciples ask Christ to teach them to pray as John the Baptist taught his disciples to pray. In the Heliand, the warrior companions phrase it differently: gerihti us that geruni, teach us the secret runes, and suddenly the Our Father becomes a magic spell capable of reaching God.

One might think that the Eucharist would offer more ofa challenge to a group accustomed to treating food as something for the mead hall and not really for religion. The Heliand once again has Jesus say magic words. After Jesus told his disciples that the bread is truly his body and the wine is truly his blood he adds, following a brief discourse: thit is mahtig thing, this is a magic thing, this is a thing that has power. The word mahtig has been shown by Stephen R. Flowers to be a word for magic, used to designate performative words (magic words) or performative persons or, here, things that possess an unusual strength, such as the ability of the magic helmet, the helidhelm, to hide its wearer.* The magic powers of the Eucharist bread and wine are then explained in a way that enforces what Jesus

said at the Last Supper. Where Jesus in the Gospel and in the liturgy asks his disciples to perform the Eucharist in his memory, the 13 Stephen E. Flowers, Runes and Magic, Magical Formulaic Elements in the Older Runic Tradition (New York: Peter Lang, 1986). For further discussion of Germanic magic, see Jan de Vries, Altgermanische Religionsgeschichte, 2nd ed., 2

vols. (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1956-57). For the mutual effect of Germanic and Christian religious concepts and practices upon one another, see Valerie Flint, The Rise of Magic in Early Medieval Europe (Princeton: Princeton UP, 1991).

Flint maintains that Christianity actually fostered magic rather than suppressing it. The Heliand seems to support her thesis in that magic was a convenient and familiar vehicle for expressing the sacred and sacramental mysteries to the Northern European mind.

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Heliand explains that the bread and wine of the Eucharist possess the power to help men remember what Jesus is doing out of love to give glory to the Lord. It possesses the magic power to give honor to the Chieftain. Thus repeating these magic words over the bread and wine fulfills a feudal obligation to honor one’s Chieftain, and will enable Christ’s men to repeat the magic of his words and defy time and the fates: “everyone all over middilgard” will come to know what he is doing. Truly a remarkable synthesis of Christianity and a beautiful concept of magic. Catholic sacramental theology will come to be very much influenced by this touching synthesis. There is even some humor in the Heliand’s use of magic. When

the disciple/warriors are distributing the miraculously multiplied loaves at the miracle of the feeding of the five thousand, the Gospels say nothing about how or where the multiplication took place. The

Heliand makes no such omission. As the warrior companions go around among the crowd distributing the loaves they are shocked as they become aware that the bread undar iro handun uuohs, that the bread between their hands was growing! If one were to object that there is no tradition in Christianity for seeing magic in God’s words, and performative magic at that, it is easy to see what the response would have been — it is in the first

fitt of the Heliand. The author describes creation itself as taking place through magic words. Fiat lux, Let there be light, and there was light. The words of God effect immediately what they say; that is, they are performative. “Your sins are forgiven you,’ and they are forgiven. “This is my body,” and it is. The task of the Evangelists was to write down all so hie it fan them anginne thuru is énes craht, uualdand gisprak, thuo hie érist thesa uuerold giscuop endi thuo all bifieng mid énu uuordo, himil endierda_ endi al that sea bihlidad égun giuuarahtes endi giuuahsanes: that uuard thuo all mid uuordon godas fasto bifangan. (38-43)

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G. Ronald Murphy [all the things which the Ruler spoke from the beginning, when he, by his own power, first made the world and formed the universe with one word. The heavens and the earth and all that is contained within them, both inorganic and organic, everything was firmly held in place by Divine words.|

Looked at through Germanic Christian eyes, the six days of creation

in which God uttered the magic words “Let there be. . .”“ many times, the words of Christ at Cana, to the paralytic, to the blind, even to the three-days-dead Lazarus, “Lazarus, come forth,” are all highly powerful magic, they are mahtig. The Saxons need not fear that they have been forced into a religion that knows far less of magic enchantment than their former faith. The whole Bible is a magic spell, a gerunt. EPIC STRUCTURE

To make his version of the Gospel into a magic and mythic spell, God's spell, the author also put the narrative into an epic structural frame centered on the scene that must have been of great significance for him, the Transfiguration on Mount Tabor. The monumental study made by Johannes Rathofer attempted to establish the existence of four divisions in the Heliand, and was unable to do so, since he pre-

ferred to concentrate on numerical analysis rather than the content of the individual fitts.* His ultimate contention that the Heliand is a centered composition with the Transfiguration, fitt 38, as its middle point, has been accepted. If this is the case, then the events of the fitts should end up in a balanced structure on either side of fitt 38. In 1958 Cedric Whitman discovered this structuring pattern in the Iliad," and 14 Inthe Latin text of the Bible this would be a single causative word: Fiat. 15 Johannes Rathofer, Der Heliand: Theologischer Sinn als tektonische Form. Vorbereitung und Grundlegung der Interpretation, Niederdeutsche Studien 9 (Cologne: Bohlau, 1962).

16 See his Homer and the Heroic Tradition (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard UP, 54

The Old Saxon Heliand

it seems that the author of the Heliand was following the same ancient technique that facilitates both memorization and oral delivery.

The form of the arrangement rather nicely gives the events that follow the Transfiguration something of a Germanic feel of being fated by the event prior to the Transfiguration, blending in with the carefully allotted role of fate in the Heliand. In fitt 32 we have the death of John the Baptist; in the parallel scene, fitt 43, the death of Jesus is foretold. In fitt 23 the Last Judgment is predicted; in fitt 53 Doomsday is described. In a rather touching parallel in fitt 19 Jesus teaches his disciples the magic runes of the Lord’s Prayer so that they can appeal to the Father; in fitt 57 he himself is calling out in his agony

in the garden to the Father. Even the nativity and the resurrection have been made parallel by the description of both as a “coming,” in the one case as a coming of God’s child to this light, and in the other as the spirit of Christ coming back, making its way under the gravestone, to the body. For people whose lives have been influenced from time immemorial by the battles and events that occurred on the crests of their hill-forts, this structure, anchored on three mountains, the mount of the sermon, Mount Tabor, and Mount Olivet, becomes familiar. The events of Christ’s life are made by the form of the tale to fit into a more northern religious emotional framework of invisible parallelism, a certain fatedness, in the realm of time. THE THEME OF LIGHT IN THE POEM

The Transfiguration in the Heliand is a scene full of light, it is a key to the spiritual world of the poet and of his Heliand epic, and he has placed it in the very center of the inclusio structure of the poem so that it cannot be but felt by the hearer or reader.” The Heliand adds even more radiance to the scene than the Evangelists had done: 1958).

17 Fora fuller treatment of the light theme in the Heliand, including the role of sight and blindness, see G. Ronald Murphy, “The Light Worlds of the Heliand,” Monatshefte 89 (1997), 5-17.

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G. Ronald Murphy Cos imu iungarono thé

san aftarthiu Simon Petrus, Iacob endilohannes, thea gumon tuéne, bédea thea gibroder, endi imu thé uppen thene berg giuuét sunder mid them gesidun, salig barn godes

mid them thegnum thrim... Tho imu thar te bedu gihnég,

tho uuard imutharuppe ddarlicora uuliti endi giuuadi: uurdun imu is uuangun liohte, blicandi s6 thiu bergte sunne: s6 skén that barn godes, liuhte is lichamo: liomon st6dun uuanamo fan themu uualdandes barne;_ uuard is geuuadi sé huit

sO snéu te sehanne. (3107-12, 3123-28) | [Then, soon after that, from among his followers he picked Simon Peter, James and John, the two men who were brothers, and with these happy warrior-companions set out to go up ona mountain on their own — the happy Child of God and the three thanes. ... As he bowed down to pray up there his appearance and clothes became different (“other-like”). His cheeks became shining light, radiating like the bright sun. The Son of God was shining! His body gave off light, brilliant rays came shining out of the Ruler’s Son. His clothes were white as snow to look at.]

In the Gospel account (Matt 17.1-3: “He was transfigured before them. And his face shone as the sun, and his garments became white as snow ) there is not quite as much enthusiasm, and there is far less emphasis on the fact that not just his face but his entire body was emitting brilliant radiation. As the Heliand poet goes on, he makes a connection between Germanic and Christian images of heaven: sO blidi uuard uppan themu berge: skén that berhte lioht,

| uuas thar gard gédlic endi groni wuang, paradise gelic. Petrus tho gimahalde,

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The Old Saxon Heliand | helid hardmodig endi te is hérron sprac, grétte thene godes sunu: ‘géd is it hér te uuesanne, ef thu it gikiosan uuili, Crist alouualdo,

, that man thi hér an thesaru hohe én his geuuirkea, | marlico gemaco_ endi Moysese dder

endi Eliase thriddea: thit is ddas hém, uuelono uunsamost. (3134-43) [It became so blissful up there on the mountain — the bright light was shining, there was a magnificent garden there and the green meadow, it was like paradise! Peter the steady-minded hero then spoke up, addressed his Lord and said to God’s Son, “This is a good place to live, Christ All-Ruler, if you should decide that a house be built for you up here on the mountain, a magnificent one, and another for Moses and a third for Elijah — this is the home of happiness, the most appealing thing anyone could have!” ]

The poet has changed the top of the mountain to paradise. He has introduced the notion of a place where the light is always shining, and suggested both the Germanic and biblical images of heaven: the green meadow of Valhalla and the Garden of Eden. The light from heaven and the green of earthly meadows and garden combine to create the Heliand’s harmonized image of paradise. Light shines everywhere and it comes both to the meadow of Valhalla and to the garden of Paradise from the shining light-person, Jesus Christ. This radiance is associated with bringing bliss to Peter the “Saxon warrior-companion’ so that he is slightly beside himself. Peter’s happiness is the “beaming” happiness of human beings that they | are enveloped in such a vast world of light, that they are part of the glowing communication between the two worlds of light, earth, this light, and heaven, the other light. At the end of the scene the poet adds his comment: “They saw God's Child standing there alone; that other light though, heaven’s, was gone.” This image of Germanic-

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Christian light and happiness, Paradise, is the center of the Heliand.

In it Jesus is viewed as a kind of light bridge. He brings the light of the other world to middilgard, and makes it as bright as paradise. For a people accustomed by their religious mythology to the image of a shimmering light bridge connecting the two worlds of heaven and earth, bifrost, the frosty Milky Way visible at night arching from

the horizon across the sky, or the rainbow seen during the day, a bridge of pale light on which the gods, the giants, and souls of the dead travel from this light to the other light, Christianity must have seemed poetically barren of any inspiration from the natural world. The author of the Heliand fills in the missing gap and makes Jesus the

bridge of light, the bifrost bringing otherworldly radiant happiness to our hilltops. In one of his more striking thoughts the author even adds: so lerde he in liohten uuordun, he taught them in light-words.

In equidistant parallel on both sides of the Transfiguration scene's light, the author placed the brilliance of the light shining at

the Nativity and the Resurrection. As in Luke’s Gospel, when Jesus | is born, men on night watch in the fields (in the Heliand they are not shepherds, they are St. Joseph's “horse-guards’!), see the angels from heaven. In the Heliand, though, the awesomeness of the situation is not so much caused by the sudden appearance of the angels as an otherworldy light breaking through the night sky:

| Gisahun finistri an tuué telatan an lufte, endi quam lioht godes uuanum thurh thiu uuolcan — endi thea uuardos that

bifeng an them felda. Sie wurdun an forhtun thé, thea man an ira mdéda: gisahun that mahtigna godes engil cumin, the im tegegnes sprac, hét that im thea uuardos_ uuiht ne antdrédin lédes fon them liohta ... (390-97) [They saw the darkness split in two in the sky and the light of God

came shining through the clouds and surrounded the guards out

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The Old Saxon Heliand in the fields. They saw the mighty angel of God coming toward them. He spoke to the guards face to face and told them they should not fear any harm from the light.]

In Luke’s Gospel the angel simply tells the men not to be afraid; in the Heliand attention is called to the light by having the angel tell the men not to be afraid of it. In parallel, during the Heliand’s description of the Resurrection once again attention is called to the arrival of the light: Sia obar themo grabe satun uueros an thero uuahtun wuuannom nahton bidun undar iro bordon, _ huan ér thie berehto dag

obar middilgard mannon quami, liudon te liohte. ‘Thuo ni uuas lang te thiu

that thar uuard thie gést cuman __ be godes crafte, | halag adom = undar thena hardon stén an thena lichamon. Lioht uuas thuo giopanod firio barnon te frumu: uuas fercal manag antheftid fan helldoron endi te himile uueg giuuaraht fan thesaro uueroldi. Uuanom up astuod,

fridubarn godes... (5765-76) (The warriors sat on top of the grave on their watch during the dark starlit night. They waited under their shields until bright day came to mankind all over the middle world bringing light to people. It was not long then until: there was the spirit coming, by God's power, the holy breath, going under the hard stone to the corpse! Light was at that moment opened up for the good sons of men; the many bolts on the doors of Hel were unlocked; the road from this world to heaven was built! Brilliantly radiating, God’s Peace-Child rose up!|

As Christ rises, the light of paradise itself is transmitted from Christ’s radiance at the Transfiguration and communicated to people, including

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those held captive like Baldr under the earth in the dank realm of Loki’s ugly sister Hel. The Christian bifrost is now in existence and functioning as He rises up. Not only is the Christian Resurrection attributed to Christ but it is communicated to all. To the angels as brilliant radiance, to the grave guards as blinding light, to the women as beaming happiness:

Rincos satun

umbi that graf Gtan, Iudeo liudi,

scola mid iro scildion. Scréd forthuuardes |

suigli sunnun lioht... san up ahléd

thie grdto stén fan them grabe, sd ina thie godes engil gihueribdida an haldBa, endiim uppan them /Aléuue gisat

diurlic drohtines bodo. Hie uuas an is dadion gelic, an is ansiunion, sO huem_ so ina muosta undar is 6gon scauuon, sO bereht endi s6 blidi all sd blicsmun lioht; uuas im is giuuadi wuintercaldon snéuue gelicost. Thuo sduun sia ina sittian thar,

thiu uuif uppan them giuuendidan sténe, endi fan them uulitie quamun, them idison sulica egison tegegnes ... (5779-82, 5803-12) |The Jewish warriors, the fighting men with their shields, were sitting outside around the grave. The brilliant sunlight continued to glide upward. .. . suddenly the great stone lifted up, uncovering the grave, as God’s angel pushed it aside. The Chieftain’s great messenger sat down on the grave. In his movements and in his face, for anyone who attempted to look directly at him, he was as radiant and blissfully beaming as brilliant lightning (sé bereht endi sé blidi all sé blicsmun lioht)! His clothes were like a cold winter’s snow. The women saw him sitting there on top of

the stone which had been removed, and terror came over them because of the nearness of such radiance.

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The Old Saxon Heliand

With their relief at hearing the news from the angel that Christ is risen, the three Marys who had come to the tomb to anoint the body change from pale to radiant themselves: “The pale women, bleca idisi, felt strong feelings of relief taking hold in their hearts — radiantly beautiful women, wuliti-sconi uuif” (fitt 69). It is interesting to see the psychological depth that the author attaches once again to wuliti. As in modern English, the women are “beaming”! They are “radiant.” And that seems to be the chief reason for bringing the poet’s fellow Saxons to Christianity, so that they may be a part of this beautiful structure centered on light, and become a part of its radiant happiness. Where did the author find inspiration for his light-filled version of Germanic Christianity? Though it may have been mediated from the Christian East, I believe it ultimately comes from the first chapter of John’s Gospel, in which the Evangelist alludes to the first verses of Genesis. John reminds the reader that “in the beginning” the world

was brought into being not by anything done by God, but simply by his speaking performative words, and God’s very first word was “Let there be light.” Christ is seen in the Heliand as one responsible for the magic spoken light-word, “Let there be light,” in all its fullness of meaning, both radiation and happiness. It is he who brings

himself to middilgard, to make Valhalla a Paradise beaming with happiness and light for Peter and his Saxon warrior-companions. For the poet of the Heliand, John the Evangelist’s words about Christ were shaping and defining: In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God... . All things were made through Him [and thus the beginning of the Heliand in which all things are held together by God’s Words]. In Him was life, and that life was the light of men. And the light shines in the darkness and the darkness grasped it not. .. . It was the true light, the light that enlightens every man, that was coming into the world. He was in the world, and the world was made through Him and the world knew Him not,... but as many as received Him he gave the power of becoming the sons of God.

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G. Ronald Murphy

The Heliand is one of the great hidden treasures, hard to fit into

a history of German(ic) literature and thus easily overlooked, yet clearly part of it and a foundational document of Western culture. It deserves much greater attention for the light it can shed on the roots and origins of Germanic culture and Christianity. ‘There is a great deal of value in reading a document like the Heliand written at a time when English and North German, Anglo-Saxon and Saxon, were not _ really two different languages. It is impossible not to feel the power of the work, and there is a great opportunity for those interested in cultural studies to begin to do comparative work between the AngloSaxon Beowulf, for instance, and the Saxon Heliand. In both works there is a confluence of Germanic and Christian culture in the poetry of two epic narratives. It is to be hoped that James E. Cathey’s recent annotated edition of the Old Saxon text of the Heliand for students, and my translation and commentary, will be a help in making the Heliand more accessible, and that admirable philological scholarship

continues to be pursued, notably in the work of D. H. Green and others,"* which will open up ever more of the hidden wealth waiting in the words and worlds of the Old Saxon poem.

18 See D. H. Green, The Carolingian Lord. Semantic Studies on Four Old High German Words: balder, fro, truhtin, herro (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1965). See also the valuable work on cultural confluence in the early medieval world, cited above, by James Russell, Stephen E. Flowers, and Valerie Flint. A recent

doctoral dissertation undertaken at Georgetown University, Washington D.C., by Mark Dreisonstock initiates a fascinating new discussion of the opposition in the Heliand and in Beowulf to money and profit as a threat to the traditional warrior culture’s concept of wealth as munificence.

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An Overview of Old Saxon Linguistics, 1992-2008 — Marc Pierce

he early Germanic languages all tend to appeal to differ) ent constituencies. Old English and Old Norse tend to attract significant attention from both literary scholars and linguists; Gothic seems to appeal the most to Indo-Europeanists and theoretical phonologists (as demonstrated by the attention paid to Sievers’ Law in Gothic, which seems to be reassessed with every new phonological theory); and Old High German naturally

attracts the most attention from those interested in the history of German. Old Saxon, on the other hand, has sometimes been the Cinderella of the early Germanic languages. Admittedly, the study of Old Saxon has not been as neglected as that of some of the others (e.g. Old Frisian and Old Low Franconian), but a good deal of work remains to be done.

Happily, though, there are signs that this traditional neglect is beginning to fade away. Beyond a general increase in the attention paid to Old Saxon, especially to the major Old Saxon text, the Héliand,' note (1) the attention paid to the 2006 discovery of a new 1 The Héliand (‘Savior’), an approximately 6,000 line poem on the life of Christ, was composed in alliterative verse, and written about 830, probably in the monastery at Fulda. For some discussion of the possible place of composition, see James Cathey, Héliand: Text and commentary, Medieval European Studies 2 (Morgantown: U of West Virginia Press, 2002), 17-18. Some sources write

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leaf of the Héliand in the Leipzig University library, and (2) the recent

presence of a session on the Héliand at the International Congress of Medieval Studies, held yearly at Western Michigan University in Kalamazoo, Michigan. The West Virginia University Press has sponsored this session every year since 2002, and the session has featured papers on a number of Héliand-related topics, by a number of different scholars, both senior and junior. This paper provides a brief overview of recent work in Old Saxon linguistics, from 1992 to 2008.” 1992 was selected as a starting date because that year saw the publication of two major works on Old Saxon,

namely a new grammar of the language by Irmengard Rauch and a new translation of the Héliand into English by G. Ronald Murphy. This paper is not comprehensive, and certainly not exhaustive, but instead offers a bird’s-eye-view, looking at only a few articles for each

linguistic topic. It is also generally limited to works published in English or German, as these are the two languages most commonly used in Old Saxon studies, although this does not mean that Old Saxon studies is the exclusive provenance of these two languages.? The focus here is on the Old Saxon Héliand, although works on the Old Saxon Genesis are also considered. Finally, it concentrates on published work and not on recent presentations or unpublished Heliand without a macron; I follow Cathey and write the word with a macron. When quoting I maintain the usage of the source.

2 ‘This limitation means that some important recent works — e.g. Klaus Gantert, Akkommodation und eingeschriebener Kommentar: Untersuchungen zur

Ubertragungsstrategie des Helianddichters (Tiibingen: Narr, 1998); Cynthia Zurla, | Medium and Message: The Confluence of Saxon and Frankish Values as Portrayed in

the Old Saxon Heliand, Doctoral Diss. (McGill University, 2005); and Gesine Mierke, Memoria als Kulturtransfer: Der alsdichsische »Heliand« zwischen Spdtantike

und Friihmittelalter, Studien zur Literatur und Gesellschaft des Mittelalters und der frihen Neuzeit 11 (Cologne: Béhlau, 2008) — will not be treated here, as they fall into the area of cultural studies, not linguistics. 3 AFrench translation of the Héliand, for instance, was published in 2008: E. Vanneufville, trans., Heliand: L’évangile de la mer du Nord (Turnhout: Brepols, 2008).

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manuscripts (though some such works are also covered). It begins with a discussion of the Leipzig fragment of the Héliand, and then turns to handbooks (including translations), phonology, metrics, syntax, morphology, semantics, and etymology, in that order. As noted above, a new leaf of the Héliand was discovered in the library of Leipzig University in April 2006 by Thomas Doring, an employee of the library. The discovery was entirely accidental: A seventeenth-century book with a cover that Mr. Doring did not

recognize happened to catch his eye. The cover was identified

by Hans Ulrich Schmid of the Institut fir Germanistik at the Universitat Leipzig as a fragment of the Héliand on the following

grounds: ‘Ihe text was written in Carolingian miniscule, was in alliterative verse, and exhibited some typically Old Saxon lexical items (e.g. sten ‘rock’ and ik uuet ‘I know’). Schmid confirmed his hunch that it was a fragment from the Héliand by checking the appropriate section of Eduard Sievers’s (1878) edition of the poem.‘ The Leipzig fragment “consists of one leaf of Héliand verse line 5823 °. . .ndan’ to line 5846 ‘te’ or ‘to’ (vowel unclear) on the

outer side of the book cover, and verse line 5846 ‘strang’ to line 5870 ‘forahta’ on the inner side of the book cover,”’ and deals with the speech of the women at Jesus's grave (see Luke 24). The frag-

ment has been dated to the ninth century on paleographic and linguistic grounds, making it contemporary to the Monacensis MS M, and to the fragments MS P (Prague), MS V (Vatican), and MS S (Straubing), and approximately one century earlier than the

Cotton Caligula MS C, which is the only extant manuscript of the Héliand containing the same section of the text as the Leipzig fragment. Commentaries on the fragment by Rauch, Schmid, and 4 Eduard Sievers, ed., Heliand (Halle: Waisenhaus, 1878). For details on the discovery of the fragment, see Hans Ulrich Schmid, “Ein neues , Heliand’Fragment aus der Universitatsbibliothek Leipzig,” geitschrift fir deutsches Altertum und deutsche Literatur 135 (2006), 309.

5 Irmengard Rauch, “The Newly Found Leipzig Heliand Fragment,” Interdisciplinary Journal of Germanic Linguistics and Semiotic Analysis 11 (2006), 2.

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Heike Sahm are available.* Its discovery also received a good deal of mainstream media attention, including coverage in Die Weltand __ the Berliner Morgenpost.’

The discovery of the Leipzig fragment will have a significant impact on the study of Old Saxon; at the very least it will have a similar effect to the discovery of the “New Leaf” of the Gothic Bible, found in Speyer in 1971, and at most it will lead to a reinterpretation of traditional thinking about the role of the Héliand in history. Rauch noted the following possible points of linguistic relevance: (1) The Leipzig fragment confirms certain conjectures about readings in some of the other Héliand manuscripts; (2) paleographic considerations of the Leipzig fragment, specifically the initial capital , support the fitt divisions described by the Latin Praefatio, but only present in MS GC; (3) it supplies additional data, which can only be welcomed, given the relatively limited amount of Old Saxon data available, and (4) the fragment “strengthens the putative association of the Latin prose and verse Prefaces with the Héliand.”® Within a broader historical context, Rauch noted that

in the mid-sixteenth century, the Reformation theologian Philipp Melanchthon praised “Louis the Pious for commissioning a Gospel harmony, which Melanchthon claims Luther is reading and which is housed in the Leipzig Pauliner Library.” The Leipzig fragment 6 Ibid., 1-17; Schmid, “Ein neues ,Heliand’-Fragment” [note 4]; idem, “Nochmals zum Leipziger “Heliand-Fragment,” Zeitschrift fiir deutsches Altertum und deutsche Literatur 136 (2007), 376-78; and Heike Sahm, “Neues Licht auf alte Fragen: Die Stellung des Leipziger Fragments in der Uberlieferungsgeschichte des Heliand,” Keuschrifi_ fiir deutsche Philologie 126 (2007), 81-98.

: 7 Some such articles on the Leipzig fragment were still available online as of May 14, 2008. The press release from the University of Leipzig can be read at the following URL: http://db.uni-leipzig.de/aktuell/index.php2pmnummer=2006155.

8 Oswald J. L. Szemerényi, “A New Leaf of the Gothic Bible,” Language 48 (1972), 1-10.

9 Rauch, “The Newly Found Leipzig Heliand Fragment” [note 5], 13-14. The controversy over the Fitten is far too wide-ranging to be treated here. 10 Rauch, “The Newly Found Leipzig Heliand Fragment” [note 5], 14.

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provides evidence for this claim, and allows us to answer, with a tentative “yes, the question posed by Murphy: “Was Luther acquainted with the Heliand?”" I turn now to a discussion of the handbooks on Old Saxon.” The paucity of handbooks, as well as the delays in updating and reprinting those that do exist, are reasonably clear signs of the relative neglect of Old Saxon." The two standard grammars before 1992 were those by Ferdinand Holthausen (1921) and Johann H. Gallée (1910)*; the two main dictionaries were those by E. H. Sehrt (1966) and Samuel Berr (1971)."° Beyond this, there was Gerhard Cordes’s Elementarbuch (1973),

which was originally planned as the third edition of Holthausen’s grammar, but became an almost completely new work (although 11. G. Ronald Murphy, trans., The Heliand: The Saxon Gospel (Oxford: Oxford UP, 1992), 12n19. Murphy (ibid.) notes the similarity of Luther’s rendering of the Latin phrase gratia plenia (traditionally rendered as ‘full of grace’) as du bist deinem Herrn lieb to the phrase used in the Héliand (thu bist thinun herron liof), whence his question of Luther’s acquaintance with the Héliand.

12 Shorter handbook-type works, e.g. the chapter on Old Saxon in Orrin W. Robinson, Old English and Its Closest Relatives (Stanford: Stanford UP, 1992), are not treated here. Some other handbooks - e.g. Steffen Krogh, Die Stellung des Altsachsischen im Rahmen der germanischen Sprachen, Studien zum Althochdeutschen 29 (Géttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1996); and Martin Fuss, Die religiése Lexik des Althochdeutschen und Altséchsischen (Frankfurt: Peter Lang, 2000), are also not considered.

13. E.A. Ebbinghaus, Review of The Old Saxon Language: Grammar, Epic Narrative, Linguistic Interference, by Irmengard Rauch, General Linguistics 33 (1993), 123, cites this lack of appropriate handbooks as one of the reasons for

the relative neglect of the study of Old Saxon. |

14 Ferdinand Holthausen, Altsdchsisches Elementarbuch, 2nd ed. (Heidelberg: Carl Winter, 1921); Johann H. Gallée, Altsdéchsische Grammatik, 2nd ed., rev. Johannes Lochner (Halle: Max Niemeyer, 1910). Gallée’s grammar was reprinted

with minor corrections in 1993: Altsdéchsische Grammatik, 3rd ed., rev. Heinrich Tiefenbach (Tubingen: Max Niemeyer, 1993). 15 E.H. Sehrt, Vollstandiges Wérterbuch zum Heliand und zur altsichsischen Genesis,

2nd ed. (Géttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1966); Samuel Berr, Etymological Glossary to the Old Saxon Heliand (New York: Peter Lang, 1971).

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Cordes retained Holthausen’s chapter on syntax). The latter work was received with caution; see the reviews by Herbert Penz! and Heinrich Tiefenbach for some relevant commentary.” Since 1992 a number of new handbooks have become available, as follows. Rauch’s The Old Saxon Language," as one might expect from the author's previous innovative work on Old Saxon," departed from the

traditional Neogrammarian-style grammars of Holthausen, Gallée, and Cordes in several significant ways: its language of composition, since it was the first grammar of Old Saxon written in English; its use of semiotic concepts; and its audience (it was “written for the neophyte as well as the seasoned scholar”).”” Among other innovations, Rauch attempted to introduce students to various concepts from theoretical linguistics and moved away from the historical/

comparative grounding of earlier grammars, aiming to introduce _ students to Old Saxon on its own (synchronic) terms rather than by extensive comparison to the other early Germanic languages.”! 16 Gerhard Cordes, Altniederdeutsches Elementarbuch: Wort- und Lautlehre

| (Heidelberg: Carl Winter, 1973). 17 Herbert Penzl, review of Altniederdeutsches Elementarbuch: Wort- und Lautlehre, by Gerhard Cordes, Language 52 (1976), 514 praised Cordes’s “thorough familiarity with the OS corpus, his careful workmanship, and his philological skill,” but felt that the book might “prove too difficult, idiosyncratic, and partly flawed to serve as an introduction to OS for the neophyte.” Heinrich Tiefenbach, “Anmerkungen zu einem Altneiderdeutschen Elementarbuch,” Beitrdge zur Namenforschung 10

(1975), 64-75, offered a more negative assessment of the work. 18 Irmengard Rauch, The Old Saxon Language: Grammar, Epic Narrative, Linguistic Interference, Berkeley Models of Grammars 1 (New York: Peter Lang, 1992). 19 See for instance Irmengard Rauch, “What Can Generative Grammar Do for Etymology? An Old Saxon Hapax,” Semasia: Beitrdge zur germanisch-romanischen Sprachforschung 2 (1975), 249-60. 20 Rauch, The Old Saxon Language [note 18], xxv. 21 ‘This does not mean, however, that Rauch completely left diachrony to one side, as her treatment of Old Saxon umlaut illustrates, in which she distinguished between diachronic and synchronic umlaut rules (I use the term ‘rule’ here in a non-technical sense).

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The motivation for this is clear: native speakers are normally not etymologists. Thus, Rauch argued for a model of “diachronic synchrony, meaning “ongoing variation and/or change within the Old Saxon language era.’?? One concrete example of this model was Rauch’s treatment of Old Saxon phonology, which did not trace the development of each particular sound from Proto-Indo-European, but instead analyzed the place of each sound within the synchronic phonological system of Old Saxon.

Rauch’s innovative treatment, as one might expect, met with mixed reviews. Richard D’Alquen stated that the book “offers such a wealth of thoughtful scholarly and pedagogic innovation, that it deserves appreciative scrutiny from us all. [. . .| The author deserves

our thanks and congratulations.” This same innovation drew fire from other reviewers; Ebbinghaus and Hans F. Nielsen both criticized the book for treating Old Saxon in relative isolation, rather than comparing it more extensively with the other early Germanic languages. In addition, both Ebbinghaus and Nielsen felt that the book required more knowledge of theoretical linguistics and more reading sophistication than one could reasonably expect from the absolute beginner in the study of historical Germanic linguistics. More recently, James E. Cathey has written two handbooks on Old Saxon. His Old Saxon is rather short (seventy pages), and focuses mainly on the nuts and bolts of the language, although it does provide a brief synopsis of cultural and literary matters.” It is also much more traditionally oriented than Rauch’s grammar; 22 = Ibid., xxxv.

23 Richard D’Alquen, review of The Old Saxon Language: Grammar, Epic , Narrative, Linguistic Interference, by Irmengard Rauch, American Fournal of Germanic Linguistics and Literatures 6 (1992), 93-94. 24 Ebbinghaus, review of The Old Saxon Language [note 13]; Hans F. Nielsen, review of The Old Saxon Language: Grammar, Epic Narrative, Linguistic Interference, by Irmengard Rauch, Word 46 (1995), 442-44. 25 James E. Cathey, Old Saxon, Languages of the World 252 (Munich: Lincom Europa, 2000).

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Cathey explicitly referred to the Neogrammarian pattern of writing grammars, stating that the “sequential presentation of the grammar is arrayed in the pattern set by the Junggrammatiker that is familiar to Germanists.”*° Cathey’s Héliand: Text and Commentary provided much

more detail on cultural and literary matters than his earlier book, | although somewhat less detail on grammatical topics (its grammar section is just over thirty pages long).”’ It is designed to fulfill two major purposes: (1) to make Old Saxon and the Héliand accessible to students who do not know German, and (2) to make an Englishlanguage edition of the Héliand available. As such, it fills a definite need. There are invariably students who would be interested in Old

Saxon but may be put off by the need to work through so much German. Moreover, courses in Old Saxon are sometimes cross-listed

with other departments (most commonly English), and one cannot always expect students from such departments to have a good reading knowledge of German. An English-language edition of the Héliand was also a desideratum for English-speaking audiences.” In many ways, both of these works are very successful. Cathey’s Old Saxon has unfortunately not received as much attention as one might wish, although Joseph F. Eska praised it highly, stating that it “packs copious information into few pages and will serve those with either diachronic or synchronic interests very well.”2° Héliand: Text and

Commentary is the culmination of its author’s long engagement with Old Saxon and the Héliand.* Its commentary is inevitably detailed, 26 = Ibid., 4. 27. Cathey, Héliand: Text and Commentary [note 1]. 28 ‘There are several German-language editions of the text; the standard is Otto Behaghel, ed., Heliand und Genesis, 10th ed., rev. Burkhard Taeger, Altdeutsche Textbibliothek 4 (Tubingen: Max Niemeyer, 1996). 29 Joseph F. Eska, book notice of Old Saxon, by James E. Cathey, Language 79 (2003), 836.

30 See for instance James E. Cathey, “Give Us This Day Our Daily rad,” Journal of English and Germanic Philology 94 (1995), 157-75; idem, “Die Rhetorik der Weisheit und Beredtheit im altsachsischen Héliand,” Literaturwissenschaftliches

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insightful, and careful (thus avoiding some of the problems inherent to more speculative works). It unfortunately does not cover the entire Héliand (only about half the text is included), and may require too high a level of linguistic sophistication to be used by absolute beginners. Reviewers have generally agreed with this positive assessment; John M. Jeep, for instance, lauds Cathey’s “rich commentary,” but suggests that the incompleteness of the text means that it will have to be used in conjunction with the English translation by Murphy, which is discussed below.*! As for translations of the Héliand, an inexpensive translation into German by Felix Genzmer was long available as a separate work (it was reprinted as recently as 1989), and has recently been republished

in a dual-language edition.” English translations were much less accessible. Mariana Scott’s The Heliand (1966), the earliest complete

translation of the poem into English, sought to mirror the structure and style of the original by using alliterative verse and archaic English words like “weeds” for “clothes,” and “quick” for “alive.” Scott’s translation met with mixed reviews, and it was clear that a new translation of the Héliand into English would be welcome.* Jahrbuch, N. F. 37 (1996), 31-46; and idem, “Interpretatio Christiana Saxonica: Redefinition for Re-education,” in Interdigitations: Essays for Irmengard Rauch, ed. Gerald F. Carr et al. (New York: Peter Lang, 1999), 163-72. 31 John M. Jeep, review of Héliand: Text and Commentary, by James E. Cathey, Speculum 79 (2002), 99-104. 32 Felix Genzmer, trans., Heliand und die Bruchsticke der Genesis, 2nd ed. (Stuttgart: P. Reclam, 1989). The dual-language edition is Clemens Burchhardt, ed., Heliand : Die Verdener altsdchsische Eoangelium-Dichtung von 830 tibertragen ins

21. Jahrhundert (Verden: Wirtschaftsforderkreis des Domherrenhauses, 2007). 33. Mariana Scott, trans., The Heliand: Translated from the Old Saxon, University

of North Carolina Studies in the Germanic Languages and Literatures 52 (Chapel Hill: U of North Carolina Press, 1966). 34 On Scott’s successes and shortcomings, see George Fenwick Jones, review of The Heliand, by Mariana Scott, Modern Language Notes 82 (1966), 488-90; and Robert L. Kyes, review of The Heliand, by Mariana Scott, The Modern Language Journal 52 (1968), 46—47.

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In 1992, such a translation was published by Murphy. ‘This, which built on a number of his earlier works,» attempted to avoid

some of the aspects of Scott’s work that had been criticized by other scholars.** To that end, he chose to translate the poem into English prose, largely because he felt that attempts to force Old Saxon alliterative poetry into English alliterative poetry sometimes sacrificed meaning for alliteration.*” Like Scott, Murphy did use

more archaic English vocabulary at times, such as “thane” (or sometimes “warrior”) instead of “knight” to render Old Saxon degen, or when he translated Old Saxon Nazarethburg (glossed by

Cathey as “Stronghold at Nazareth”) as “hill-fort Nazareth” or “Fort Nazareth.”%* And like Scott’s earlier translation, Murphy’s new translation met with mixed reviews. Gerald F. Carr praised it highly, calling it “most readable” and “skillful,”? but Joseph Wilson contended that Murphy’s translation is so filled with mistakes that “the careful reader [. . .] can unfortunately have no confidence in anything that Murphy says.” Be that as it may, Murphy’s translation is both more accessible and readable than Scott’s. It remains

in print, and will therefore presumably remain a fixture in Old Saxon studies for some time to come.” 35 See especially G. Ronald Murphy, The Saxon Savior: The Germanic Transformation of the Gospel in the Ninth-Century Heliand (New York: Oxford UP, 1989); and idem, “Magic in the Heliand,” Monatshefte 83 (1991), 386-97. 36 Murphy, The Heliand [note 11].

37 Ibid., xiv-xv. 38 Cathey, Héliand: Text and Commentary [note 1], 338. 39 Gerald F. Carr, review of The Saxon Savior: The Germanic Transformation of the Gospel in the Ninth-Century Heliand and The Heliand: The Saxon Gospel, by G. Ronald Murphy, American fournal of Germanic Linguistics and Literatures 6

(1994), 99. |

40 Joseph Wilson, review of The Heliand: The Saxon Gospel, by G. Ronald Murphy, journal of English and Germanic Philology 94 (1995), 455.

41 Tonya Kim Dewey (University of California, Berkeley) has prepared a new translation of the Héliand into English, which is to be published by Edwin Mellen Press, but I have not yet seen this work.

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I turn now to the study of Old Saxon phonology. Unlike its closest relative, Old High German, whose phonology has been investigated in great detail over the years, Old Saxon phonology has largely been neglected. Moreover, Old Saxon data has played a much more minor role than data from the other early Germanic languages (especially Gothic) in the development of linguistic theory. Several

recent studies, however, do draw on Old Saxon data to illustrate points of more general linguistic interest. Cristian Iscrulescu, for instance, used Old Saxon data in his Optimality Theory analysis of the interaction between grammatical and phonological markedness, leading to what he calls the “Marked in the Marked (MIM) generalization.” According to Iscrulescu, “outputs inflected for a marked grammatical category are characterized by equal or greater phonological markedness than outputs inflected for the unmarked category. “* He argued that MIM allows a better analysis of case marking in Old Saxon, claiming that in the nominative and accusative case, the case suffix -u is deleted if its retention would lead to an uneven trochee (a foot consisting of a heavy syllable and a light syllable), as in forms like /ufi ‘air’ (contrast this with the retention of the -u in forms like heru ‘sword’). In the dative case the case ending | _ is retained no matter what kind of foot results (e.g. heru with an even trochee and /uftu with an uneven trochee). Iscrulescu ascribed this development to the MIM: The dative case is grammatically marked and therefore shows a greater degree of phonological markedness than the grammatical unmarked nominative/accusative case.“

In other recent work, Laura Catharine Smith has argued that various phonological phenomena in the West Germanic languages 42 Cristian Iscrulescu, The Phonological Dimension of Grammatical Markedness, Doctoral diss. (University of Southern California, 2006).

43 Ibid., 263. 44 For another analysis of Old Saxon data (specifically degemination) using Optimality Theory, see Marc Pierce, “Constraints on Syllable Structure in Early

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Germanic,” Journal of Indo-European Studies 28 (2000), 17-29.

Marc Pierce

can best be analyzed in terms of prosodic templates, both “simple templates that are defined in terms of feet alone and complex templates

which are based on the interaction of feet with other levels of the prosodic hierarchy.’ Examples of such phenomena include plural formation in Modern German, diminutive formation in Modern German and Modern Dutch, and the loss of 7 in Old High German -jan verbs and Old Saxon i-stems. In Smith’s view, i-loss in the Old Saxon 7-stems is best accounted for by means of prosodic templates, specifically a simple foot-based template.

The handbook analysis of this phenomena is straightforward: The thematic vowel 7 is lost in long stem nouns but retained in short

stem nouns, as the following forms show: gast ‘guest’ and qudn ‘woman are long stems and thus show deletion, while stedi ‘city’ and uuini ‘friend’ are short stems and thus do not show deletion. Smith argued that the preferred foot in Old Saxon was the moraic trochee (a bimoraic, left-headed foot), and that i-loss took place to fit words

to this template. Thus, while *gasti and *gudni cannot be parsed exhaustively into moraic trochees, i-loss ensured that gast and qudn

could. Forms like stedi and uuini, on the other hand, can be parsed exhaustively into moraic trochees, and the 7 is therefore maintained. Smith further argued that this approach successfully accounts for the failure of i-loss to occur in trisyllabic words like friundskepi “friendship’, since the final i, which could be syncopated, can be footed as

part of the word and is therefore retained. | Beyond works like this, data from Old Saxon has commonly been invoked for comparative purposes, as in the study of i-umlaut in early Germanic. Of the early Germanic languages, i-umlaut in Old High German and Old Norse has attracted the most attention, 45 Laura Catharine Smith, “The Resilience of Prosodic Templates in the History of West Germanic,” in Historical Linguistics 2005, ed. Joseph Salmons

and Shanon Dubenion-Smith (Amsterdam: John Benjamins, 2007), 350. See also idem, Cross-Level Interactions in West Germanic Phonology and Morphology, Doctoral diss. (University of Wisconsin-Madison, 2004).

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but Old Saxon data continues to play a role in the discussion; Jens Elmgard Rasmussen and Bo Isakson both drew on Old Saxon data for their discussions of 7-umlaut in West Germanic. Perhaps the most radical recent use of Old Saxon data in the study of umlaut is by Mervin R. Barnes, who contended that 7-umlaut originated in Old Saxon and spread from Old Saxon into Old High German.” Old Saxon data is also commonly used in the discussion of other West Germanic phonological phenomena, e.g. West Germanic Consonant Gemination, as in a recent dissertation by Craig J. Callender and in Kurt G. Goblirsch's treatment of the development of the Old Saxon consonantal system as part of a broader discussion of Germanic consonants.*® Other recent treatments of Old Saxon phonology include Yasushi Kawasaki’s on the connection between phonology and orthography in the Héliand manuscripts and Michael P. Coffey’s

on monophthongization.* Old Saxon metrics has received a fair amount of attention in recent years. ‘This was not always the case; in a review written in 1981, Ruth P. M. Lehmann could note that Old English and Old Norse meter had been analyzed in great detail, but a good deal of work needed to be done on Old Saxon (the standard handbooks of 46 Jens Elmgard Rasmussen, “The Growth of i-Umlaut in Norse and West Germanic: Thoughts on a Recent Book,” Acta Linguistica Hafniensia 32 (2000), 143-59; Bo Isakson, “How Primary was the OHG Primary Umlaut?” NOWELE: North-Western European Language Evolution 41 (2002), 99-104.

47 Mervin R. Barnes, “Old High German Umlaut,” in Interdigitations [note 30], 239-46. 48 Craig J. Callender, Gemination in West Germanic, Doctoral diss. (University of South Carolina, 2006); Kurt G. Goblirsch, “The Voicing of Fricatives in West Germanic and the Partial Consonant Shift,” Folia Linguistica Historica 24 (2003), 111-52; and idem, Lautverschiebungen in den germanischen Sprachen (Heidelberg: Carl Winter, 2005). 49 Yasushi Kawasaki, Eine graphematische Untersuchung zu den HELIANDHandschrifien (Munich: Tudicium, 2004); Michael P. Coffey, Autosegmental Processes in Early Germanic: Evidence from Northwest Germanic, Doctoral diss. (University of California-Berkeley, 2005).

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course provided brief discussions). The situation was somewhat remedied by the publication of Dietrich Hofmann’s Die Versstrukturen der altsdchsischen Steibreimgedichte Heliand und Genesis, as well as |

by works such as Geoffrey Russom’s Beowulf and Old Germanic Metre, which included a chapter on Old Saxon alliterative verse, and

Douglas P. A. Simms’s 2003 dissertation on comparative metrics, which examined hypermetric verses in Old Saxon and then offered a comparative study of hypermetric verse in Old English and Old Saxon as opposed to Old Norse dréttkv@it.' The most significant recent studies on Old Saxon metrics are Seiichi Suzuki’s The Metre of Old Saxon Poetry and his articles on the same theme, which are in some respects follow-ups to his earlier works (especially his detailed study of the meter of Beowulf).” Unlike Hofmann, who focused on Old Saxon meter on its own terms, Suzuki compared Old Saxon meter with that of Old English, 50 Ruth P. M. Lehmann, review of Zur Heliandmetrik: Das Verhdltnis von Rhythmus und Satzgewicht im Altsachsischen, by Ingeborg Hinderscheidt, Speculum 56 (1981), 391-93.

51 Dietrich Hofmann, Die Versstrukturen der alisdchsischen Stabreimgedichte — Heliand und Genesis, 2 vols. (Heidelberg: Carl Winter, 1991); Geoffrey Russom, Beowulf and Old Germanic Metre (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1998); and Douglas P. A. Simms, Reconstructing an Oral Tradition: Problems in the Comparative Metrical Analysis of Old English, Old Saxon and Old Norse Alliterative Verse, Doctoral diss.

(University of Texas-Austin, 2003). Geoffrey Russom, “A Bard’s-Eye View of the Germanic Syllable,” Journal of English and Germanic Philology 101 (2002), 305-28, also draws on Old Saxon (as well as evidence from Old Norse) but, as in his earlier study, his focus is on Old English. 52 Seiichi Suzuki, The Metre of Old Saxon Poetry: The Remaking of Alliterative Tradition (Cambridge: D. S. Brewer, 2004); idem, “Anacrusis in the Meter of the Heliand,” in Interdigitations [note 30], 189-99; idem, “The Metrical Reorganization of Type E in the Heliand,” American Journal of Germanic Linguistics and Literatures 12 (2000), 281-90; and idem, “The Metrical Organization of the Heliand: Gradation and Harmonization,” Interdisciplinary Journal for Germanic Linguistics and Semiotic Analysis 6 (2001), 11-39. Suzuki’s metrical analysis of Beowulf culminated in The Metrical Organization of Beowulf: Prototype and Isomorphism, Trends in Linguistics

95 (Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter, 1996).

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especially that of Beowulf, Among other issues, Suzuki rejected the

idea defended by various scholars (by Russom, for instance) that the Héliand is a monument to a dying poetic tradition,** assumed that Old Saxon meter and Old English meter are rooted in the same Germanic poetic tradition (which Suzuki defined as the meter of Beowulf), and argued that the Héliand poet was both aware of the Germanic poetic tradition and revised the metrical system of Old Saxon — based on his knowledge of the Germanic poetic tradition — to accommodate the various changes that were in progress in the language at the time of the composition of the Héliand. He characterizes the Héliand poet as follows: In light of the minimal departures from tradition and maximal effects of harmonization that the poet accomplished in his versemaking, we may infer that the Heliand poet would have had a firm working knowledge of traditional metre, a daring spirit of innovation, and a profound sense of balance and symmetry, in conjunction with an admirably sensitive awareness of linguistic differences between Old English and Old Saxon down to their

details and subtleties.

In Suzuki's view, then, the Héliand is not the product of “a [poetic] tradition in decline,”’* but instead represents a poetic tradition at the height of its powers. Suzuki's is an innovative work in many respects, only a few of which

can be touched on here. In addition to offering a thorough synchronic overview of Old Saxon meter, he tackled various differences between Old Saxon meter and Old English meter, such as the obscuration of the 53 ‘This view is normally rooted in the idea that various linguistic changes affecting Old Saxon (e.g. changes in the primary stress system and their consequences, including vowel epenthesis in certain contexts and the restoration of historically syncopated vowels, presumably due to analogy) also affected Old Saxon meter. 54 Suzuki, The Metre of Old Saxon Poetry [note 52], xvi. 55 Russom, Beowulfand Old Germanic Metre {note 51], 170.

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| Marc Pierce difference between Type A1 and type A2 verses in Old Saxon as opposed

to their maintenance in Old English, as well as various differences in | the systems of resolution and alliteration. Suzuki also accounted for some oddities about hypermetric verses in the Héliand. ‘These verses are significantly more common in the Héliand than elsewhere (0.3% of the verses in Beowulf are hypermetric, as compared to just under 3% of the verses in the Héliand, according to Suzuki), just over 10% of the hypermetric verses in the Héliand occur in isolation, and they may be used with anacrusis (neither of these last two generalizations is true of Beowulf). Suzuki's account of such verses links them to the reorganization of anacrusis and of verse types by the Héliand poet. Finally, he analyzed the meter of the Old Saxon Genesis and discussed some of the differences between the meter of Genesis and that of the Héliand, which in his view is the result of Genesis hewing more closely

to traditional metrical principles than the Héliand. Suzuki’s work met with mixed reviews. Tonya Kim Dewey suggested that it “can be considered a groundbreaking work, possibly the new standard text in Old Saxon metrics,” but criticized the text for its “analysis of Old Saxon syntax and its effects on the meter, which does not seem to follow any standard syntactic analysis.”** Robert

D. Fulk called the book “an important and useful contribution to the ongoing study of early Germanic meters, for which metrists will be grateful.”*’ Finally, Russom offered a generally positive appraisal

of Suzuki's work but criticized it for not going as far as it might have, arguing that it “represents Old Saxon metre as thoroughly restructured |. . .] [but] does not present an explicit rule system for the Heliand that distinguishes metrical verses from unmetrical verses 56 Tonya Kim Dewey, review of The Metre of Old Saxon Poetry: The Remaking of Alliterative Tradition, by Seiichi Suzuki, Interdisciplinary Journal for Germanic Linguistics and Semiotic Analysis 11 (2006), 281.

57 Robert D. Fulk, review of The Metre of Old Saxon Poetry: The Remaking of Alliterative Tradition, by Seiichi Suzuki, Journal of Germanic Linguistics 17 (2005), 153.

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across the board.”®* Thus, in Russom’s view, Suzuki has formulated “explicit constraints of great interest for individual verse types but has

not integrated them into a coherent whole.” It does seem, though, that future work on Old Saxon meter will have to take a stand with regard to Suzuki's work, whether for or against it. Recent studies of Old Saxon syntax and morphology include the following. Dewey treated verb position in Old Saxon as part of a larger study of verb position in the early Germanic languages, drawing her

evidence largely from alliterative verse.“ In Old Saxon, unstressed finite verbs tend to appear in second position (verb second, hereafter V2), which Dewey saw as an inheritance from Proto-Germanic, and also as intonationally conditioned.” Various developments in Old Saxon (as well as in Old Norse) eliminated this intonational conditioning, allowing for verb placement according to purely syntactic

factors. That is, changes in the stress pattern of Old Saxon and resulting changes in the metrical system, meant that “the inherited tendency for auxiliaries and finite verbs in unbound clauses to occur in second position due to their intonationally weak status was no longer motivated on intonational grounds |. . .] [and| was reanalyzed as a syntactic pattern based on clause type.’ She suggested that this 58 Geoffrey Russom, review of The Metre of Old Saxon Poetry: The Remaking of Alliterative Tradition, by Seiichi Suzuki, Anglia 123 (2005), 704-05. 59 = Ibid., 705. 60 Other recent works on Old Saxon meter include Ari Hoptman, Verner’s Law, Stress, and the Accentuation of Old Germanic Poetry, Doctoral diss. (University of Minnesota-Minneapolis, 2002); Thomas Bredehoft, “Old English and Old Saxon Formulaic Rhyme,” Anglia 123 (2005), 204-29; and Megan Hartman, “Kuhn’s

Law, Old Saxon, and the Hypermetric Line,” Conference paper presented at GLAC 14 (Madison, Wisconsin, 2008). 61 Tonya Kim Dewey, The Origins and Development of Germanic V2: Evidence from Alliterative Verse, Doctoral diss. (University of California-Berkeley, 2006). 62 Dewey saw this tendency as similar to, but not identical with, Wackernagel’s

Law; see Jacob Wackernagel, “Uber ein Gesetz der indogermanischen Wortstellung,” Indogermanische Forschungen 1 (1892), 333-436. 63 Dewey, The Origins and Development of Germanic V2 [note 61], 106.

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change was not completed by the time of the Héliand, but was instead a change in progress. Furthermore, the Old Saxon data, along with data from Old Norse and Gothic, motivated Dewey’s claim that V2 in the modern Germanic languages is an inheritance from the older

languages, and not an independent innovation. _ Other current approaches to syntax have also been brought to bear on Old Saxon data. Carlee Arnett analyzed variation in auxiliary selection within the framework of Cognitive Grammar, specifically

the prototype model endorsed by this theory. She examined all of the attestations of the perfect active tense formed with an auxiliary verb and a past participle in the Héliand in order to answer the question of why some verbs use wuesan ‘to be’ as an auxiliary, while others use hebbian ‘to have’, much like the situation in Modern German. In Arnett’s view, auxiliary selection is linked to prototypes: “Prototypical mutative events occur with uuesan, and prototypical transitive events

occur with hebbian. Events that are not prototypically mutative or transitive show variation in the auxiliary they select.”© Thus, verbs like cuman ‘to come’ occur with wuesan, while verbs like sterkian ‘to strengthen’ occur with hebbian. Ina later paper, Arnett used Cognitive

Grammar to analyze the passive in Old Saxon. Here she argued that the two types of personal passive constructions found in Old Saxon (one with the subject in the nominative case and one with the participant in the dative case) can be traced to varying amounts of

degree of transitivity: The first type of personal passive is highly transitive, while the second type is less so.

64 Carlee Arnett, “Perfect Selection in the Old Saxon Heliand,” American Journal of Germanic Linguistics and Literatures 9 (1997), 23-72.

65 Ibid., 51. Arnett (ibid., 30) defines these terms as follows: “Prototypically mutative events involve a single participant that nonvolitionally undergoes a change of state [. . .|. Prototypically transitive events involve two participants such that the subject is highly potent, and the object is totally affected.” 66 Carlee Arnett, “A Cognitive Approach to the Old Saxon Processual Passive,” American Journal of Germanic Linguistics and Literatures 12 (2000), 81-99.

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Old Saxon has also been used in grammaticalization studies.” For instance, Christopher M. Stevens entered the debate over the status of affixoids,® arguing that Old Saxon data, specifically derivational

suffixes, can be fruitfully brought to bear on the problem, but also noting that controversy surrounds this question in the relevant literature on Old Saxon. (Among other difficulties, different scholars classify the same forms differently: What one scholar might see as a derivational morpheme, another might see as a stem or a root, and so on). Stevens attributed this controversy to the different approaches taken by different scholars, since some researchers approach the Old Saxon data from a diachronic perspective, while others approach it from a synchronic perspective (much like the situation in studies of Old Saxon phonology, as noted above). Stevens therefore argued in

favor of a panchronic approach to the Old Saxon data: synchronic tests can be used to determine the status of a given form (specifically whether it is an affix or an affixoid), and at the same time diachronic considerations can steer one’s thinking about the given form.

As to the specifics of his analysis, Stevens outlined some possible tests for affixes and affixoids — e.g. “the meaning of the affixoid is more generalized and abstract than the formally identical 67 On grammaticalization, see Paul J. Hopper and Elizabeth Closs Traugott, Grammaticalization, 2nd ed., Cambridge Textbooks in Linguistics (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2003). 68 Christopher M. Stevens, “The Derivational Suffixes and Suffixoids of Old Saxon: A Panchronic Approach to a Linguistic Category,” American Journal of Germanic Linguistics and Literatures 12 (2000), 53-79. Stevens, “The Prefixes and Prefixoids of Old Saxon: On the Grammaticalization of the Old Saxon Adverbs and Prepositions,” Leuvense Bijdragen 93 (2004), 152, defines the affixoid as “a linguistic item that is neither a root nor a derivational morph,” for instance -werk in Modern German words like Laubwerk ‘foliage’, which can be contrasted with the -werk in forms like Kraftwerk ‘power plant’ (among other differences, words like Laubwerk cannot be pluralized, while words like Kraftwerk can). For a more

general discussion of affixoids, see idem, “Revisiting the Affixoid Debate: On the Grammaticalization of the Word,” in Grammatikalisierung im Deutschen, ed. Torsten Leuchner et al. (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2005), 71-84.

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parent”® — and then applied these tests to the derivational suffixes of Old Saxon listed as such by Cordes and Roland Zanni, e.g. -fald (as in manag fald ‘numerous, large, manifold’ and tehanfold ‘tenfold’, among other forms), and -fast (as in legarfast “bedridden and warfast ‘true’).” In Stevens’s view, -fald is a suffix, while -fast is a suffixoid.

He also hypothesized that the development of the various Old Saxon suffixes and suffixoids can be attributed to grammaticalization, as some of them are possibly “erstwhile roots on their way to

becoming affixes.”” | Stevens later examined the prefixes and prefixoids of Old Saxon

in two separate publications.” In the first of these, he argued that certain root morphemes in Old Saxon have developed into grammatical morphemes (i.e. have been grammaticalized from root to affixoid). Consider his discussion of megin ‘strength, power, troop, band, crowd’, with ‘strength, power’ being the primary meaning and ‘troop, band, crowd’ the secondary meaning, which can be used both as a word on its own and as a prefixoid (as in words like meginkraft ‘yreat power’ and meginsundea ‘great sin’). In Stevens’s view, megin has perhaps developed along the following lines: It was originally

a noun meaning ‘strength, power, force’, and then developed the additional meaning ‘troop, band, crowd’, at which stage it was used as a classifier. The third stage of its development was the addition of 69 Stevens, “The Derivational Suffixes” [note 68], 59.

70 Cordes, Altniederdeutsches Elementarbuch [note 16]; Roland Zanni, “Wortbildung des Altniederdeutschen (Altsachsischen),” in Sprachgeschichte: Ein Handbuch zur Geschichte der deutschen Sprache und ihrer Erforschung, vol. 2., ed. Werner Besch et al. (Berlin: De Gruyter, 1985), 1094-1102.

71 Stevens, “The Derivational Suffixes” [note 68], 77. 72 Christopher M. Stevens, “More Prefixes and Prefixoids of Old Saxon and Further Examples of the Grammaticalization of the Old Saxon Root,” Leuvense Bijdragen 91 (2002), 301-318; idem, “The Prefixes and Prefixoids” [note 68]. I focus here on his article from 2002, since the 2004 study follows essentially the same pattern as his article published in 2000, except that it examines prefixes and prefixoids instead of suffixes and suffixoids.

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‘great’ (as in the two examples cited above) to its range of meanings, i.e. it became an intensifier; it also fits his tests for ‘prefixoid-hood’.

Stevens suggested that this possible path of development is along the lines of the development of full in English (which according to him has also developed from noun to classifier to prefixoid). Stevens

also argued that, while the Old Saxon suffixoids and prefixoids are both good examples of grammaticalization, they generally are derived from different parts of speech; suffixoids and suffixes tend to come from nouns, adjectives, and adverbs, while prefixoids and prefixes tend to come from prepositions and adverbs. Moreover, their paths of grammaticalization tend to be different. His work shows

both that Old Saxon data can be valuable for the study of grammaticalization, and that grammaticalization theory can fruitfully

be applied to Old Saxon. | Other recent studies of Old Saxon morphology include the following: Jurg Fleischer examined predicate adjectives and participles in Old High German and Old Saxon, which can occur either as uninflected or inflected forms in certain contexts.” He argued that, in Old Saxon, the most important factor connected to the distribution of these forms is its position in the paradigm; for instance, in the masculine plural, the inflected form is more commonly used than the uninflected form, while in the singular the opposite tendency prevails. Grammatical gender in Old Saxon is treated by Frederick W. Schwink as part of a more general discussion of grammatical gender in Germanic. In Schwink’s view,

grammatical gender in Old Saxon is “in a state of considerable disarray and confusion, reflecting, like later Old English, a break-

down of the older declensional patterns, and a shift to i-stems that are not declensionally clear.”* Another recent study of Old 73 Jurg Fleischer, “Das pradikative Adjektiv und Partizip im Althochdeutschen und Altniederdeutschen,” Sprachwissenschaft 32 (2007), 279-348. 74 Frederick W. Schwink, The Third Gender: Studies in the Origin and History of Germanic Grammatical Gender (Heidelberg: Carl Winter, 2004), 55.

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| Marc Pierce Saxon gender is that of Santeri Palviainen, which investigated the gender of the Old Saxon suffix -skepi. This suffix forms both masculine and neuter nouns, which is somewhat unexpected. In Palviainen’s view, the normal gender of such nouns is masculine,

and the unexpected neuter nouns are the result of influence from | semantically parallel forms.” A number of etymological studies have appeared in recent years.

Alfred Bammesberger presented an etymology of Old Saxon idis ‘woman, wife’ (along with its cognates in Old English and Old High

German). He argued that these words all stem from a Germanic | form “idis, which is connected etymologically to Greek words meaning “burn’, and proposed three possible accounts for the semantic development from “burn’ to ‘woman’: (1) the personification of ‘fire’

as female divine being, and then the extension of this personification to women in general; (2) the extension of ‘fire’ to ‘house’ and ‘master of the house’ via ‘fireplace’; (3) the metaphoric use of ‘fire’ for ‘lover’. Bammesberger dealt with another Old Saxon etymology, this time thimm ‘dark’, a hapax legomenon attested in line 5627 of the Héliand, which he traced to Proto-Germanic “bemma and ultimately to Proto-Indo-European *temh-s-6.” Perhaps the most interesting part of his discussion is his treatment of the development of the geminate

m in the Old Saxon form, which hinges on the shift of the s in the reconstructed PIE form to zin Proto-Germanic and the assumption that Proto-Germanic clusters consisting of nasal or liquid + z resulted in geminates in West Germanic.

Other recent etymological studies include that by Dirk Boutkan, which dealt with an Old Saxon fish name, specifically hacth ‘pike’ 75 Santeri Palviainen, “The Gender of the Old Saxon Suffix -skepi,” Harvard Working Papers in Linguistics 12 (2007), n.p.

76 Alfred Bammesberger, “The Etymology of Germanic *idis,” NOWELE: North-Western European Language Evolution 52 (2007), 81-89.

77. Alfred Bammesberger, “As. thimm: Wortbildung und phonologische Entwicklung,” Amsterdamer Beitrdge zur dlteren Germanistik 52 (1999), 3-9.

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(attested in the Oxford Vergil glosses). He argued that this word is semantically associated with a family of words meaning ‘point, hook’ (e.g. Old English héc and Old High German hako, both meaning “hook’),” since “the animal [is] named after its sharp teeth,” as well as various forms in Uralic (e.g. Finnish hanka ‘hook, oarlock’).®°

In Boutkan’s view, the Finnish word cannot be a loan word from Germanic, and he therefore concluded that the Old Saxon form is a borrowing from a non-Indo-European substrate. Whether Boutkan’s

analysis of the Old Saxon word is correct is debatable (I remain somewhat skeptical), but it is certainly thought-provoking. Finally, W. Wilfried Schuhmacher referred to Old Saxon to account for the development of Low German (Velbert dialect) jot ‘ihr’.' He argued that this form, which has been affected by analogy to the dativeaccusative form onk, does not go back to its putative ancestor, Old Saxon git ‘you’ (nominative plural), but instead reflects a Proto-Old Saxon form “jut prior to the operation of vowel lowering. I conclude with discussion of a few recent works that do not fit neatly into any of the categories mentioned above. An important (etymological) study is Prisca Augustyn’s The Semiotics of Fate, Death, 78 Dirk Boutkan, “II. Pre-Germanic Fish in Old Saxon Glosses: On Alleged Ablaut Patterns and other Formal Deviations in Gmc. Substratum Words,” Amsterdamer Beitrdge zur dlteren Germanistik 52 (1999), 11-26. The gloss in question can be found in Elis Wadstein, ed., Kleinere altsdchsische Sprachdendmdler mit Anmerkungen und Glossar (Leipzig: D. Soltau, 1899). Boutkan’s article is one

of a series on Germanic fish names; see also idem, “Pre-Germanic Fishnames I: Gmc. ‘bream’,” Amsterdamer Beitrage zur dlteren Germanistik 52 (1999), 11-26;

and idem, “Pre-Germanic Fishnames III: A New Etymology of “Herring’,” Amsterdamer Beitraége zur dlteren Germanistik 53 (2000), 1-6. 79 Theo Vennemann, “Key Issues in English Etymology,” in Sounds, Word, Text, and Change, ed. Teresa Fanego, Belén Méndez-Naya, and Elena Seoane (Amsterdam: Benjamins, 2002), 227-52, argues that the Germanic hook-words themselves are borrowings from “Vasconic” (compare Basque kako, kakho ‘hook’).

80 Boutkan, “II. Pre-Germanic Fish” [note 78], 13. 81 W. Wilfreid Schumacher, “LG (Velbert) jot ‘ihr’ < *ju¢ (oder OS git)?” NOWELE: North-Western European Language Evolution 45 (2004), 59-60.

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and the Soul in Germanic Culture, which examined the overlap between Christianity and pre-Christian Germanic myth and religion,

and viewed “Germanic Christianity as a dual religious system” that had synthesized pre-Christian Germanic myth and religion with Christianity.** Augustyn focused on four major aspects of this dual system: “the mythopoetic scenario that unifies life and death in Germanic culture,” connections between Germanic beliefs and Christianity pertaining to death, “mental-emotional concepts of the self,” and “poetic strategies for the redefinition of pagan concepts as the immortal soul.”® Her carefully argued and detailed discussion surveyed concepts like dém, which in her view has to do with “an

underlying notion of something like a ‘natural sense of right and wrong *; hugi, which Cathey glosses as ‘mind, thought, heart’, but about which Augustyn observed: hugi “encompasses the entire spectrum of human emotions, and |. . .] is perceived as an emotional center located in the chest”; and siola (related to English soul and German Seele), about which she noted: “The author uses |. . .] siola very distinctly to express the Christian dogma of eternal life and introduces a new concept that stands in contrast with existing belief.”* , 82 Prisca Augustyn, The Semiotics of Fate, Death, and the Soul in Germanic Culture:The Christianization of Old Saxon, Berkeley Insights in Linguistics and Semiotics 50 (New York: Peter Lang, 2002), 175. This idea is not new; for instance, Frederic Henry Chase, The Lord’s Prayer in the Early Church (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1891), 1, argued that “Christianity, absolutely new in its central ideas and aims, employed time-honoured machinery for their furtherance J. . .]. It inherited the powers which were inherent in, or had been won by, Judaism.” Cathey, “Give Us This Day Our Daily rdd” [note 30], 157-58, notes that, once the term “Judaism” is replaced by “pre-Christian religion,” Chase’s point is also valid for Old Saxon territory, such that “the new [religion] was at least to some considerable extent an overlay upon preexisting customs and expectations.”

83 Augustyn, The Semiotics of Fate [note 82], 3. 84 Ibid., 86. 85 Ibid., 127. 86 Ibid., 79. For a fuller discussion, see James E. Cathey, Review of The Semiotics of Fate, Death, and the Soul in Germanic Culture: The Christianization of

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Other relevant studies that do not fit neatly into the above categories include the following: Rauch looked for evidence of “paralanguage’ (non-verbal elements used to modify meaning and/or convey emotion, e.g. gestures, facial expressions, etc.) in the early Germanic languages. She argued that “one of the most intractable problems in the grammar of Old Saxon, viz. the phonology of the digraphs and ” can be accounted for by means of paralanguage, specifically the paralanguage feature drawl.” Jorg Riecke surveyed eighteen

manuscripts containing Old Saxon glosses, which show a total of 128 attestations of 102 medical and/or anatomical words. He then compiled a three-part corpus of these forms, one for body parts, one for diseases, and one for medical cures, and provided information on the meaning of each word, as well as its attestation(s), the Latin word(s) that it glosses, and bibliographical references. Riecke’s corpus is a valuable asset for further such projects. Ekaterina Skvairs

investigated language contact between Old Saxon and Old Low Franconian and its implications for the history of Dutch and Low German.® She also argued against the use of the term “Old Low German” and its equivalents as a synonym for “Old Saxon” (as in the work of Cordes and Fleischer, for instance), since, in her view, this

term is more properly applied to the result of Old Saxon and Old Low Franconian language contact. Finally, Heike Sahm discussed Old Saxon, by Prisca Augustyn, Interdisciplinary Journal of Germanic Linguistics and Semiotic Analysis 10 (2005), 251-60.

87. Irmengard Rauch, “Paralanguage: Evidence from Germanic,” Semiotica : 135 (2001), 154-55. On paralanguage, see George Trager, “Paralanguage: A First Approximation,” Studies in Linguistics 13 (1958), 1-12. 88 Jérg Riecke, “Anatomisches und Heilkundliches in altsachsischen Glossaren,”

Amsterdamer Beitrdge zur dlteren Germanistik 52 (1999), 207-225. | 89 Ekaterina Skvairs, “Altsachsisch-altniederfrankisches Kontakterbe und sein Fortleben im Niederdeutschen,” Amsterdamer Beitrage zur alteren Germanistik 55 (2001), 27-60.

90 Language contact involving Old Saxon has been the subject of a good deal of research over the years, as is demonstrated, for instance, by Thomas L. Markey,

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variation in the Old Saxon Genesis and argued that the author of Genesis developed a new strategy for dealing with variation — which

she defined as “the resumption of an expression that interrupts the flow of the syntax and emphasizes another aspect of a situation or event that has already been evoked” — namely that “he committed himself to a structure of variation based on the appositive style and with this gradation he arrives at the climactic content-related moments of his text.”

As the above discussion has shown, Old Saxon is receiving significantly more attention of late than it traditionally has. It is especially heartening that some recent analyses have synthesized more current formal approaches to linguistics like Optimality Theory

with more traditional ideas about Germanic philology. The yearly session at the International Congress of Medieval Studies is also a good sign, as is the increasing number of papers on Old Saxon topics presented recently at conferences like the International Conference

on Historical Linguistics and the Germanic Linguistics Annual Conference.” But perhaps the best sign of the health of the field Germanic Dialect Grouping and the Position of Inguveonic, Innsbrucker Beitrage zur Sprachwissenschaft 15 (Innsbruck: Institut fiir Sprachwissenschaft, 1976), who distinguishes between what he calls “genuine Old Saxon with distinctively

Ingvaeonic features” and “Old Saxon influenced by High German.” See also Heinrich Tiefenbach, “Altsachsisch und Altniederlandisch,” Amsterdamer Beitrage

zur alteren Germanistik 57 (2003), 61-76, for another recent study of language contact involving Old Saxon. 91 Heike Sahm, “Wiederholungen tiber Wiederholungen: Zur Variation in der ,,Altsachsischen Genesis",” eitschrift fiir deutsche Philologie 123 (2004), 321,

340: “die den Fluss der Syntax unterbrechende, andere Aspekte eines bereits genannten Gegenstandes oder Ereignisses hervorhebende Wiederaufnahme eines Ausdrucks.” [. . .] “er [legte] sich auf eine verstechnische gebundene Bauform fur die Variation fest und konturiert obendrein durch deren Staffelung einen inhaltlichen Héhepunkt seines Texts.” 92 Illustrative titles include, for example: Mike Olson and Shannon DubenionSmith, “Towards a Typology of Relativization Strategies in Old Saxon,” Paper presented at 18th International Conference on Historical Linguistics (Montreal,

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An Overview of Old Saxon Linguistics, 1992-2008 : is the variety of scholars involved in it, especially as more junior scholars have begun working on Old Saxon topics. Clearly a good deal of work remains to be done, but the field is healthier today than it has been in some time.

2007); and John D. Sundquist, “Case Attraction and Relative Clause Variation in the Old Saxon Heliand,” Paper presented at GLAC 13 (State College, PA, 2007).

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II ‘The Diatessaronic Tradition

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The Parable of the Fisherman in the Heliand: The Old Saxon Version of Matthew 13:47—50: Tjitze Baarda

INTRODUCTION

he reason for this study is the interesting theory of my Utrecht

colleague Prof. Dr. Gilles Quispel concerning the Tatianic background of the Heliand.’ This theory may be illustrated with an example that appeals to our imagination, namely his view 1 Originally published in Amsterdamer Beitrage zur dlteren Germanistik 36 (1992), 39-58.

2 ‘This contribution is one of four articles dedicated to the problem of the text of Matthew 13.47ff. in its relation to the text of the Diatessaron and the Gospel

of Thomas; the others are: “Philoxenus and the Parable of the Fisherman: Concerning the Diatessaron Text of Matthew 13.47-50,” in The Four Gospels, 1992: Festschrift Frans Neirynck, ed. Frans van Segbroeck et al., 3 vols. (Leuven: Leuven UP, 1992), 2:1403-23; ““Chose’ or ‘Collected’: Concerning an Aramaism

in Logion 8 of the Gospel of Thomas and the Question of Independence,” Harvard Theological Review 84 (1991), 373-97; and “Clement of Alexandria and the Parable of the Fisherman: Matthew 13.47—48 or Independent Tradition?” in The Synoptic Gospels: Source Criticism and the New Literary Criticism, ed. Camille Focant (Leuven: Leuven UP, 1993), 582-98.

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Tjitze Baarda on the parable of the man who cast his net into the sea.? The text of the poem which Quispel refers to (lines 2628-34) reads thus’: Ok is imu that uuerk gelic that man an s€éo innan = segina uuirpit, - fisknet an fl6d_—endi fahit bédiu, ubile endi géde, _tiuhid up te stade, lidod sie te lande _ lisit after thiu

thea gddun an greote_endi |atid thea 6dra eft an grund faran, an uuidan uuag.

One may translate these verses in the following way: “Also is the work like to it: / that a man into the sea cast a seine’ /a fishing net 3 Gilles Quispel, “Some Remarks on the Gospel of Thomas,” New Testament Studies 5 (1958/1959), 276-90; idem, “Der Heliand und das Thomasevangelium,” Vigiliae Christianae 16 (1962), 121-51, repr. in idem, Gnostic Studies IT (Istanbul: Nederlands Historisch-Archaeologisch Instituut, 1975), 70-97; idem, Het Evangelie van Thomas in de Nederlanden (Amsterdam: Elsevier, 1971; repr. Baarn: Tirion, 1991), 117-23 (rev. ed., 150-55); idem, Tatian and the Gospel of Thomas : Studies in the History of the Western Diatessaron (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1975), 95-107, 120, 176. See

for Quispel’s views on the Heliand also his “Jewish Influences on the ‘Heliand’,” in Religions in Antiquity: Essays in Memory of Erwin Ramsdell Goodenough, ed. Jacob

Neusner (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1968), 244-50.

4 Otto Behaghel, ed., Heliand und Genesis, 10th ed., rev. Burkhard Taeger, Altdeutsche Textbibliothek 4 (Tibingen: Max Niemeyer, 1996), 97 (fitt 32). See Wilhelm Stapel, ed., Der Heliand (Minster: C. Hanser, 1953), 75; Felix Genzmer, ed., Heliand und die Bruchstticke der Genesis (Stuttgart: Reclam, 1955; repr. 1977),

90; Quispel, “Der Heliand und das Thomasevangelium” [note 3], 150; idem, Het Evangelie van Thomas [note 3], 121 (rev. ed., 154). See also Willy Krogmann, “Heliand, Tatian, und Thomasevangelium,” Zeitschrift ftir die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft 51 (1960), 255-68; idem, “Heliand und Thomasevangelium,” Vigiliae Christianae 18 (1964), 65-73 (with a different spelling of the words, e.g., ‘Oc ist

im that uuer gilik/ . .seo. . ./fisknett an fluot’ etc.). 5 Quispel, Tatian and the Gospel of Thomas [note 3], 102 renders “doth cast his nets, but rightly “een net .. . werpt,” in Het Evangelie van Thomas [note 3], 121 (rev. ed., 154). Cf. idem, “Der Heliand und das Thomasevangelium” [note 3], 150; idem, “Gnosis and the New Sayings of Jesus,” Eranos Jahrbuch 38 (1969), 273-76.

: I would like to keep the word used by the Heliand, segina ‘seine’ (Dutch zegen). 94

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into the flood, and catches both, / evil and good ones, tows (it or them?) up to the shore, / brings them to the land, (and) after that (he) chooses / the good ones on the sand and makes the other go again to the ground, / into the wide waves.” Quispel was not the first scholar who posited the view that a Latin Diatessaron text was to be assumed as the main source of the Heliand,'

but he was the first one to postulate that the Old Saxon poem was dependent on an archaic form of the Western Diatessaron which had some remarkable agreements with the so-called Gospel of Thomas, which agreements could only be explained by the assumption of a common Judaic-Christian source. When reading the lines quoted above Quispel was struck by the fact that the Heliand did not speak of a fishing-net with which the Kingdom of Heaven was compared (so Matt 13.47f.), but a fisherman, or at least a man who cast a net. He referred to several Oriental Diatessaron witnesses (such as Aphrahat,

Philoxenus)* that seemed to prove that the Diatessaron contained a 6 Quispel, Jatian and the Gospel of Thomas [note 3], 102, renders “throweth”; idem, Het Evangelie van Thomas [note 3], 121 (rev. ed., 154), “verzamelt” (=collects); idem, “Liudger en het Evangelie van Thomas,” Rondom het Woord 13 (1971),

217 (“verzamelt”). The latter rendering (“collects”) is strange, since Quispel has laid some emphasis on the fact that the source of the Heliand read eligit or elegit; see “Some Remarks on the Gospel of Thomas” [note 3], 298: “selects”; “Der Heliand und das Thomasevangelium” [note 3], 150: “liest.” The rendering “collects” must have been suggested to him by Juw fon Weringha, Heliand and | Diatessaron, Studia Germanica 5 (Assen: Van Gorcum, 1965), 101. 7 For “endi.. . eft”, see § 11j below (autem or et rursum?). 8 See especially C. W. M. Grein, Die Quellen des Heliand. Nebst einem Anhang: Tatians Evangelienharmonie herausgegeben nach dem Codex Cassellanus (Cassel:

Theodor Kay, 1869), esp. 173 (ch. 78). Grein was not the first scholar; see Krogmann, “Heliand, Tatian, und Thomasevangelium” [note 4], 255, who mentions J. A. Schmeller (1840). For a discussion of the problem of the Latin harmony as a source, see Johannes Rathofer, Der Heliand: Theologischer Sinn als tektonische Form. Vorbereitung und Grundlegung der Interpretation, Niederdeutsche Studien 9 (Cologne: Bohlau, 1962), 7-10. 9 For the Diatessaron text, see my “Philoxenus and the Parable of the Fisherman” [note 2].

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form of the parable which differed from the Greek text of Matthew. In addition, he could also refer to Clement of Alexandria” and the

Gospel of Thomas" to support his thesis that there was a form of the text that was independent from the canonical Gospel text which spoke about a person who cast his net and not of a fishing net that

was Cast into the sea. | In his view, this Diatessaron reading — now also found in the Heliand'? - and the variations in Thomas 8 and in Clement’s allusions ultimately went back to an extra-canonical Jewish-Christian tradition that had contained the more original form of the parable of Jesus. This conclusion confirmed Quispel in his belief that Jesus was a wisdom preacher rather than the eschatological prophet Matthew had made of him." It is clear from this that Quispel’s discussion of the verses in the Heliand were of great importance, since they form an inseparable link in the chain of his argumentation for the recov- _ ery of a primitive tradition. It seems appropriate to ask whether this link holds.

TEXT |

THE RECONSTRUCTION OF THE ORIGINAL LATIN DIATESSARON

1. In one of the most interesting and provoking studies on the relation between the Diatessaron of Tatian and the Gospel according

to Thomas, Quispel made an attempt at presenting the scholarly 10 See my “Clement of Alexandria and the Parable of the Fisherman” [note 2]. 11 For Thomas, Logion 8, see my “‘Chose’ or ‘Collected”” [note 2]. - 12 See also H.-W. Bartsch, “Das Thomas-Evangelium und die synoptischen Evangelien,” New Testament Studies 6 (1960/1961), 259: “|. . .| im Heliand 2628, der, wie Quispel darlegt, die originale Form des Diatessaron bewahrt hat.” 13 See Quispel, Het Evangelie van Thomas [note 3}, 123 (rev. ed., 155): “De tijd is gekomen om Jezus ook als een wijsheidsleraar te beschouwen. Daarom acht

ik het niet uitgesloten dat de gelijkenis van de visser, die wellicht nog in de Heliand naklinkt, de oorspronkelijke bewoordingen en de eigenlijke bedoeling van Jezus heeft bewaard.”

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world with the reconstruction of the original text of the Western Diatessaron in the passage Matt 13.47f.“ His main sources for this reconstruction (which I label as form 1) were, besides the Heliand, the Middle Dutch or Flemish (T®) and German harmonies (T"), the Middle Italian Diatessarons, namely the Venetian (TY) and Tuscan (T")

harmonies, and some other Latin witnesses, among which Ludolph of Saxony (Lud.) takes an important place in his research into the original Latin Diatessaron. In one of his many other studies Quispel presents his readers with a slightly different reconstruction (which

is form 11) of the same text. |

THE RECONSTRUCTION OF THE LATIN DIATESSARON

2. His reconstructions read thus:

I Variae lectiones in II 1. Simile est regnum caelorum

2. piscatori mittenti rete suum in mare om. suum 3. quod ex omni genere piscium congregat. om. quod - congregat

4. Quod cum plenum esset, sit /. esset

5. eduxit de mari, educit, om. de mari 6. et sedit secus litus sedens /. sedit 7. et elegit piscos magnos om. et, eligit /. elegit

8 et misit in vasa sua, ponit /. misit

Q. parvos autem misit in mare. mittit /. misit 3. Quispel acknowledges that such reconstructions are always dangerous, that they are purely hypothetical and cannot be fully approximate — the more so because the reconstructed text is not found in this form in any of the many witnesses adduced, certainly 14 Quispel, Tatian and the Gospel of Thomas [note 3], esp. 97f., 102f. 15 Quispel, Het Evangelie van Thomas {note 3}, 120 (whose faulty text has been corrected in the rev. ed., 154).

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not in the Latin witnesses.'* Therefore, he uses this hypothetical form of the text as a “model” by which the many textual deviations

in the medieval vernacular texts can be explained. Now, if we would compare this “model” with the most renowned of the Latin Diatessaron texts, the Codex Fuldensis of Victor of Capua,” which was a Vulgatized form of an earlier Latin Diatessaron, we discover no fewer than twenty-one textual variants. Now we have, besides the Fuldensis (T™), other Latin harmonies — mostly dependent on this text — that also have variant readings, such as the Codex Casselanus (T**),® the Codex Sangallensis (T'®) and its Old High German counterpart (OHG),” some other Latin harmonies registered by Heinrich J. Vogels in his study of the Latin Diatessaron (A, D),” and the commentary of Zacharias of Besancon (Zach) on the Latin harmony.”! DIFFERENCES BETWEEN THE RECONSTRUCTION AND THE FULDENSIS

4. The deviations between T™ and the reconstruction of Quispel will be listed here:

16 Quispel, Tatian and the Gospel of Thomas [note 3], 98; Het Evangelie van Thomas [note 3], 121.

17 Ernst Ranke, ed., Codex Fuldensis: Novum Testamentum latine interprete Hieronymo ex manuscripto Victoris Capuani (Marburg & Leipzig: N. G. Elwert, 1868), esp. 71:31-34. 18 Grein, Die Quellen des Heliand [note 8}, 173 (ch. 78). 19 Eduard Sievers, ed., Tatian. Lateinisch und altdeutsch mit ausfiihrlichem Glossar, 2nd ed., Bibliothek der altesten deutschen Litteratur-Denkmialer 5 (Paderborn: Ferdinand Schéningh, 1892), 101a and 101b (ch. 76). 20 Heinrich J. Vogels, Beitrdége zur Geschichte des Diatessaron im Abendland, Neutestamentliche Abhandlungen 8:1 (Miinster: Aschendorff, 1919), esp. 101,

103. ,

21 Zacharias Chrysopolitanus, De concordia evangelistarum (In unum ex quattuor), in PL 186, cols. 11-620, esp. 236.

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Tu Quispel rand 1 Witnesses

1. iterum om. (Thomas)

2. sagenae piscatori (Thomas) Heliand “man” 3. missae mittenti (Thomas) Heliand “uuirpit”

4. (Sagena) rete TY TT 5. (sagena) rete suum I (Thomas) 6. congreganti quod congregat 1 TT 7. genere add. piscium I Tls TLAD) Lud. onc TT TY TN T™

8. quam quod TY TT

g. impleta cum plena esset I WT (cum plena sit 11)

10. educentes eduxit I, -cit 0 (Thomas) Heliand

11. add. id 1 Heliand (?), cf. TY T™

12. add. de mari tI Lud. “scilicet, de mari” 13. sedentes sedens I, sedit 1 14. secus litus sed. __ sed. secus litus

15. elegerunt et elegit 1, eligit 11 Heliand “lisit after thiu”

16. bonos magnos (Thomas) TY “li grandi e li buoni”

17. add. pisces (Thomas)

18. in vasa et misit (ponit 1), iv. cf. TY “si mete”, cf. Peshitta

19. vasa add. sua TOY) Lud. TT TY 20. malos autem parvos autem (Thomas) 21.foras miserunt = misit in mare (Thomas) Heliand

5- From this comparison it becomes quite clear that in his “model”

text not every deviation from the ordinary Vulgata text as repre- | sented in the Fuldensis is supported by an actual variant reading in the sources for his reconstruction. Some are based either on a

logical inference from other deviations or on a conjectural guess | in which the text of Logion 8 in Thomas seems to have played a dominant role. This is due to Quispel’s conviction that the original Diatessaron, and consequently also the original Latin version of it,

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must have contained a form that showed a close agreement with the text of Logion 8 of the Gospel of Thomas, but was different from the canonical text.” Both the Diatessaron and Thomas represent, in his view, a very early Aramaic tradition. This is — he argues — valid also for the Western translation of the Diatessaron, which according to Quispel was made by the Manichees who brought the harmony to the West”: This original Western harmony was influenced by the

ordinary text of the Gospels only to a low degree, since it did not originate in a Catholic environment. In this Western Diatessaron ~ thus he reasons — the original text of the harmony of Tatian had remained relatively unharmed, which was not the case when Victor of Capua made his thorough Vulgatized revision of the harmony in his Codex Fuldensis. The Manichaean Latin Diatessaron left its traces in the later medieval vernacular texts that came into being in Italy, Flanders, and Germany, moreover in part of the Vetus Latina tradition and in some Latin Fathers. Quispel even holds the view that the original Diatessaron may be reconstructed sometimes in a more

adequate way by referring to the Western witnesses than by using the Eastern testimonies. Now this Western branch of the Diatessaron has become — so he argues — an important vehicle through which the independent extra-canonical and even pre-canonical Aramaic tradition could invade the Western world. The vernacular offspring of the original Latin Diatessaron thus reveals to us, to a certain extent, the earliest form of the tradition of the words of Jesus. His conclusion is that the Diatessaron was one of the channels through which this old time tradition flowed, the other source was the Gospel of Thomas. Therefore, Quispel could even posit that the Middle Ages “knew more

of this tradition than we did before the discovery of the Gospel of Thomas.” To what extent can we accept his view with respect to the 22 Quispel, Tatian and the Gospel of Thomas [note 3], 103: “The differences from

23 Ibid., 102 . the canonical text must have been enormous.”

24 Quispel, “Gnosis and the New Sayings of Jesus” [note 5], 274.

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early Latin Diatessaron as a vehicle of pre-canonical tradition? And to what extent does the text of the Heliand contribute to our knowledge

of that tradition? ‘These are the questions to be answered. SOME OBSERVATIONS ON THE LATIN RECONSTRUCTION

6. In spite of his careful observation that the reconstruction is a hypothetical one, Quispel is convinced that his tentative text was not wide of the mark: “On the other hand, we can be rather confident that our reconstruction of the Latin original and of the primitive text of Tatian is correct.”** There are, therefore, a few severe objections to be made. One of them is that there is kind of a circular reasoning in the argumentation for this reconstruction. His starting-point was that the eighth Logion of Thomas presented the parable in an independent, pre-canonical form. The second step was that the original Diatessaron was dependent on the same material and therefore a second witness to this pre-canonical form of the parable. The next

step was the observation that the Western Diatessaron tradition had preserved a very primitive form of the Tatianic text, so that its reconstruction of necessity would bring out the primitive, precanonical form of the word of Jesus. However, if we consider the result of this reconstruction, it appears that among the witnesses that could be called for (see § 4) it is exactly the Gospel of Thomas that plays a dominant role. This is, from a methodical point of view, a very problematic procedure, to say the least. I will present here two illustrations of this procedure. OUT OF THE SEA

7. In his reconstruction (see § 2) Quispel assumes — in line 5 — that

the primitive Latin Diatessaron read “eduxit id de mari” (reconstruction 1) instead of the usual “educentes.” The main argument 25 Quispel, Tatian and the Gospel of Thomas [note 3], 103.

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for the addition of “de mari” is the reading of Ludolph of Saxony, “educentes, scilicet de mari.” The average reader would interpret Ludolph’s text as a clarification of “educentes,” so that the addition was not part of his text, but only a comment. Quispel, however, had in mind the reading of the Gospel of Thomas: “He drew it up from the sea” (aqcwk MMoc egpai .. . ZN earacca). Although he had to admit that there was not a single trace of such a reading in any of the extant Western witnesses, he is still confident that he can prove that this was part of the Diatessaron text in Latin dress, since he writes: “de mari, which, as we shall see, is very archaic.”®* His conclusion is that in all other Western witnesses the harmony text was assimi-

lated to that of the ordinary canonical text, the true reading being preserved in Ludolph’s reference only.”’ One of the arguments for the correctness of his thesis in this respect is that Mar Ephrem the Syrian in his commentary on the Diatessaron presents us with the same reading for the Diatessaron, in which this author speaks of an election from the sea: “The remark about the ‘electio quae ex mari est’ suggests that Tatian read: “he drew it out from the sea’.”** Here again,

one must seriously ask whether this conclusion is justified. First of all it is clear from Ephrem’s text that he read “they lifted it up to the shores of the sea,”® that is, 1. he read the verb in the plural form, and 2. he did not read the verb “drew,” which means that his text is in accordance with that of the Greek Matthew, except for the finite

26 Ibid., 97.

27 Ibid., 98, 106, 176; remarkably, this reference fails in the Appendix II on Ludolph (ibid., 153). 28 Ibid., 101; see also his “L’Evangile selon Thomas et le Diatessaron,” in Gnostic Studies II [note 3], 33: “Thomas: de la mer 1. éxi tov aiytaddv,” with reference to Ephrem’s commentary (Arm: extra), the Tuscan Diatessaron (fuori), the Dutch

_ Diatessaron (uf) — none of these witnesses testifying in favor of the reading which Quispel wants to defend. 29 See L. Leloir, ed., Saint Ephrem. Commentaire de l’évangile concordant: Texte Syriaque (Mss. Chester Beatty 709), Chester Beatty Monographs 8 (Dublin: Hodges & Figgis, 1963), 68.17-23.

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form of the verb. This reading almost certainly rules out the reading “from the sea.” Secondly, the phrase which Quispel lays emphasis on belongs to the Father’s comments: Ephrem has the verb “they chose,” where Matthew had “collected”; now he distinguishes between the final election, when the good ones and bad ones are separated, and an earlier selection from the sea, that is, when the net is taken ashore with all kinds of fish. This is called by Ephrem the selection from the world (“ex mari, quae est ex mundo’), when people become members of the Church. ‘This earlier selection belongs to his interpretation, not

to the text that he read in the harmony. Otherwise he should also have read twice the verb “chose” in his text, both in verse 47 and in verse 48. Such a textual phenomenon is not found in any text. And so it is not necessary to assume it for the Diatessaron, if one takes into account that Ephrem’s remark is merely part of his theological exegesis. So, both in Ludolph and in Ephrem, “from the sea” belongs to their respective comments on the passage. Apparently, Quispel’s view concerning both these witnesses is prompted by his eagerness to connect Thomas and Tatian in order to have two independent witnesses for his thesis of a deviating precanonical form of the parable. “It is not just a historical question,” he writes, “whether or not Ludolph of Saxony still read a Jewish-

Christian variant in his Diatessaron (‘educentes, scilicet de mari’ — ‘he drew it out of the sea’) [. . .] The real issue is whether or not the Latin Diatessaron has preserved in some cases a primitive and Jewish-Christian version, which leads us back to a stage of tradition before the Gospels and enables us to establish that Jesus preached

a realized eschatology.’ “The present author,” Quispel continues, “has reasons to suppose that this question should be answered in the affirmative.” Apart from the question whether such a trifling variant

as out of the sea brings us closer to a different teaching perspective _ of Jesus, the answering of the second question has to be based on

solid textual decisions as far as the recovery of the primitive Latin | 30 Quispel, Tatian and the Gospel of Thomas [note 3], 106f.

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Diatessaron is concerned. I have not the conviction that Quispel has succeeded in proving his case here. SAGENA OR RETE?

8. A second illustration for the problematic procedure behind his reconstruction of the primitive Latin harmony text is found in line 2 (see § 4): “... mittenti rete suum” (so I; in 11 om. suum). As I have pointed out elsewhere, this reconstruction, for which Quispel could

refer to the medieval Italian harmonies, the Tuscan and Venetian Diatessarons (“rete”),*! is in fact based on the conviction that the Diatessaron reading was in complete agreement with the Logion of Thomas, “who cast his net.” This explains also why reconstruction I has “rete suum.” The idea behind this conjecture of the reading rete is that the original saying of Jesus in the early pre-canonical tradition did not speak of a cayfvn, a trail-net, but of a smaller net that could be handled by one person. This idea was prompted by the study of

C.-H. Hunzinger,” in which the imagery of Thomas was seen as totally different from that in the parable of Matthew. According to this approach the net in Thomas was meant to have been a casting net, not a trail net, since there is no mention of several people to 31 He also refers to the Hague manuscript (nette) of TN and MS U (netze) of T™ (Zatian and the Gospel of Thomas [note 3], 98f.), which are very uncertain testimonies, since they could be renderings of sagena as well (N.B. In his own rendering of the Liége manuscript, Quispel renders sagene with net; see Het Evangelie van Thomas [note 3], rev. ed., 153). The reading rete in fF q, retia in [a] bcefgl h, and retiaculum in k occur beside sagena in the Latin tradition, but it

, is impossible to say whether the reading rete was actually found in the primitive Latin Diatessaron on the basis of the vernacular versions and these Latin texts. The wording rewse, riisse, etc. in the Middle High German harmony tradition

, could have been renderings of rete or sagena. 32 C.-H. Hunzinger, “Unbekannte Gleichnisse Jesu aus dem ThomasEvangelium,” in Judentum, Urchristentum, Kirche: Festschrift fiir Joachim Jeremias,

ed. Walther Eltester (Berlin: A. Tépelmann, 1960), 217f.

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handle it: “He does not use a boat and a trawl net, as in Matthew, but a cast net: he stands in the water near the border [. . .]."23 Apart from the question whether one person can handle a trail net,** it is to be observed that the Coptic word used here, asw, presupposes the reading oaynvn,* the very word that is also read by Clement. Oddly enough, oayjvn is found even in Quispel’s own reconstruction of the Greek Thomas and of the Diatessaron,** in spite of his conviction that | Clement-Ihomas-Diatessaron were to be seen as three independent witnesses that had preserved the original pre-canonical form of the parable, which did not speak of a trail net. Now, it is interesting to look here at the text of the Heliand: “an séo innan segina uuirpit, / fisknet an fl6d.” Shortly after this we find a similar repetition: “tiuhid up te stade / lidod sie te lande,” a repetition which so often occurs in the Old Saxon poem. In the latter case, te stade is the rendering of the text word (ad litus),*’ and te lande is caused by a sort of parallelismus membrorum so often used in the poem in paraphrasing the source text. Likewise, segina is the word of his text (sagena), whereas Jisknet is due to the parallelism, just as séo is his text word (mare) and 33. Quispel, “Gnosis and the New Sayings of Jesus” [note 5], 273 (= Gnostic Studies II [note 3], 190). See also “Der Heliand und das Thomasevangelium” [note 3], 149 (= Gnostic Studies II [note 3}, 95).

34 See my “Chose’ or “Collected’” [note 2] for a presentation of material which proves that a caynjvn could be handled by one person; even Clement of Alexandria uses this word, in spite of his allusion to one fisherman. 35 See my “‘Chose’ or “Collected’” [note 2], in a section on Hunzinger and the Coptic Text.

36 See Quispel, Tatian and the Gospel of Thomas [note 2], 105; and “Der Heliand und das Thomasevangelium” [note 3], 150.

37 The text of the Heliand departs here from the Latin harmonies and the Vulgate in reading “. . . ad litus et” instead of “et secus litus” in Vulgata Q and the majority of Old Latin texts; cf. the Venetian harmony. It is at first sight strange that Quispel completely neglects the Heliand and TY here, but here again his view that the Diatessaron read with the Gospel of Thomas “and drew it from the sea” forbids him to take cognizance of this variant in the Heliand, and so he favors the reconstruction “et sedit secus litus.”

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fléd is the poetical repetition. This suggests that the Heliand is here a replica of the ordinary Latin harmony text with sagena, not rete.** In this respect the wording of the Heliand is in agreement with the Latin harmony tradition (see also the Dutch harmonies), the Vulgata, and Old Latin aur ff’ /. Of course, one might suggest that the Heliand has been influenced by the Vulgate reading here, but if one wants to make this poem one’s crown witness for the Old Latin Diatessaron, one has to acknowledge that it has been contaminated at this point.

On the other hand, if one wants to connect, as Quispel does, the text of the Heliand as a witness of the Old Latin harmony with the pre-canonical text represented in Clement’s allusion (oayjvn) and in Thomas (as), its reading segina would fit in well. THE HELIAND AND QUISPELS RECONSTRUCTION

g. If we compare the text of the Heliand with Quispel’s reconstruction of the Latin Diatessaron we find the following agreements and differences:

Heliand Reconstructions 1 and 1

1. Ok = iterum] om. 2.is... gelic] = simile est

3. imu| regnum caelorum (subj.) 4. that uuerk that] om.

5. man] piscatori

6. an séo innan| in mare (after 7) ,

7. segina] rete suum (II om. suum)

38 Theoretically one could, of course, suggest that the author read rete (= Jisknet) in his text and complemented it with sagena (= segina), in which case he knew two different readings. But then one should assume also that he found in his text besides mare also fluctus, besides ad litus also ad terram, an assumption for which there is no reason whatsoever. Moreover, fisknet in itself could have been a good rendering of sagena, besides the preceding Latinism segina. In the calling of the disciples (lines 1150-1189) the word neéti is used for Latin rete.

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8. uuirpit] mittenti (before 7) g. fiknet an fléd (parall.)

10. endi fahit| quod . . . congregat (II om.) 11. bédiu ubile endi gdde| ex omni genere piscium (II om.)

12. 0m.] Quod cum plenum esset (II sit)

13. tiuhid| eduxit (11 educit) 14. up te stade] de mari (11 om.)

15. lidod sie te lande (parall.) , 16. om.| et sedit (11 sedens) secus litus 17. lisit after thiu] et elegit (11 eligit)

18. thea gddun] piscos magnos

19. om.| et misit (11 et ponit) 20. an greote| in vasa sua 21. endi latid... eft... faran] autem misit (II autem mittit)

22. thea ddra| parvos

23. an grund an uuidan uuag] in mare CONCERNING THE VORLAGE OF THE HELIAND

10. If we then make a comparison of the text of the Heliand with both Quispel’s reconstruction and the Western harmony tradition, we can leave out the figures of parallelism that we listed under 9 and 15, moreover those phrases which all the traditions have in common, namely (2) simile est, and (6) in mare. Since we will deal separately with

the peculiar variant reading that attracted the attention of Quispel | as being very primitive, namely “a man cast a net,” it will not be mentioned in our comparison here. As we assume that the poet of the Heliand abbreviated his source text in 12, 16, and perhaps in 19, we do not register these omissions as specific readings of the Heliand epic. Further, we do not interpret the reading (18) thea gédun . . .(23) thea 60ra, where we would expect a rendering of bonos-malos, as a variant reading. We may compare lines 2599-2601: “endi lesat thea

hluttron man .. . endi thea 6dra an hellia grund” (the others being the rejected, line 2602). Finally, another freedom of the author may

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be found in (11) bédiu ubile endi géde, where the Western harmonies read ex omni genere (piscium).* In this variant the poet anticipated the separation of the doni and the mali at the end of the parable (where he speaks, as we have already noticed, of the good ones and the others). Anyhow, the poet of the Heliand does not betray that he had a text before him of the type that Quispel suggested in his reconstruction (magnos - parvos).

11. What remains to be registered are the following readings of the Heliand:

a) Ok] =iterum (Matt réAw) is not found in Quispel’s reconstruc-

tion, but is attested in all Latin and vernacular versions of the Western Diatessaron. b) segina | = sagena (Matt cayivn), see § 8.

c) endi (fahit) | = et (Matt cat) is found in the Sangallensis and

its Old High German counterpart (inti) and in the Dutch Diatessaron tradition, in part of the Vulgata tradition and the Vetus Latina (aur d ff'l). The omission of the conjunction is found in the Fuldensis and Casselanus harmonies as well as in part of the Vulgata tradition and Old Latin c. The reconstruction of Quispel reads quod, in accordance with ff” q ek (quae in ab f gih, Vulg. QE), cf. the Tuscan (/a quale) and Venetian (en la quale) harmonies. In any event, the Heliand differs from the reconstruction and presents us with a reading that was present

in the Latin harmony tradition. 39 The addition of piscium is found in several manuscripts of the Vulgata and of the Vetus Latina, in some Fathers, in several Western harmonies such as the Tuscan and Venetian Diatessarons, the Dutch and German harmonies, and in the Latin harmony text in MSS G and (Monac.) A D, Zacharias Chrysopolitanus, Ludolph of Saxony, and the Old High German Diatessaron. ‘The free way of quoting in the Heliand does not enable us to say whether piscium was in its source

text or not; if not, his text was of the type of the Fuldensis or Casselanus.

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The Parable of the Fisherman in the Heliand

d) fahit | It is impossible to say whether this is a rendering of the verb congregare or some other verb such as colligere (cf. collegit: b f Afq; collexit: g'; colligat: k; colliget: h). The Dutch (“die g[h]adert”)

and German (“die sament”) harmonies could be either verb, and the Italian harmonies (ragune T, se congrega V) seem to favor the verb congregare. e) tiuhid | Quispel’s reconstruction educit (11) or eduxit (1) might

certainly give the verb behind the Saxon word, since both educere and tiohan may mean ‘draw (up)’ and ‘educate’ (ziehen

and erziehen). This reconstruction, however, surprises at first sight, since Quispel assumes that Tatian read a verb like on@v ‘to pull up, catch’ in his text,*° since he found tirarono in the Persian text, eli la tirano in the Tuscan text, /a trassero fuori in the Venetian text, and trekkense in the Dutch harmony. He compares this reading with that of Thomas trahere |. educere (in agreement with the Dutch, Venetian, Tuscan harmonies, the Heliand, the Persian harmony, the Syrus Sinaiticus, and Philoxenus).“" One would have expected that Quispel would

have suggested the reading trahit or traxit, since educere is the , verb used in the Vulgate and a great deal of the Old Latin wit-

nesses and in the Latin harmonies (being not an impossible | rendering of Matthew's &vaBiB&Cew in this context), whereas the Venetian might render trahere. So it is not clear to me why he did not follow here the witnesses that he rightly or wrongly adduced for trahere, the more so because this verb is also found in some of the quotations of the Latin Fathers such as Jerome (extrahitur) and Augustine (trahunt, trahitur). Apparently, he did not want to deviate from his other crown witness, Ludolph of Saxony. In my view, there is no reason to think that the poet of 40 Quispel, “Der Heliand und das Thomasevangelium” [note 3], 150 (= Gnostic Studies IT [note 3], 95); see also Tatian and the Gospel of Thomas |note 3], 105 (avéona). 41 See ibid., 176; and Het Evangelie van Thomas [note 3}, 121 (rev. ed., 154).

109 |

| Tjitze Baarda the Heliand had another verb than educere before him, nor the translators of the other Western harmonies. For example, the Dutch does not merely read trekkense, but adds to it ut, which together might go back to e-ducere.

f) up te stade | (see § 7) I am not certain whether the adverb up ‘hinauf’ is to be connected with the verb tiuhid up = e-ducit, or with te stade. However, in both cases it is clear that the Heliand deviates from the ordinary Western Diatessaron witnesses both in Latin and in the vernacular versions, which have the reading et secus litus sedentes, that is, the text with et (kat) before secus litus (€ni tov aiyvaddov).” The reading of the Heliand is in agreement with part of the Greek witnesses of Matthew (e.g., x B D P), the Old Latin [a] b d fff’ g' hq and e-k, Vulgate Q, the Venetian harmony (eli /a tiranno en la riva); it is also the order of the text in the Eastern Diatessaron tradition. ‘The reading of the Heliand does not conform to Quispel’s reconstruction “et sedit secus litus,” but its source seems to have read: “educit ad

litus et...”. g) lisit | The reading of the Heliand suggests the verb eligere, which

is the common Latin rendering in the Vetus Latina and the Vulgate, Fathers like Jerome and Augustine (colligere only in e and dk), where one should expect colligere (ovvéde&av in Matthew), and in the Latin and vernacular harmony tradition.* 42 This text is found in several Greek manuscripts, Old Latin aur c ff’ 1, the Vulgate, some Fathers (Augustine, Jerome), the Tuscan and Dutch harmony tradition and several vernacular versions. The omission of cat is found in some other Greek manuscripts such as L Q fam.13 pc. One might suggest the thesis that the latter reading could be the original one, which led to the placing of kat in different places to make clear to which part of the sentence éni tov aiyrardv belonged. 43 I disagree with Fon Weringha, Heliand and Diatessaron [note 6], 101, who identified lisit (line 2632) with colligit. The ordinary Latin verb here (eligere) explains Jisit very well. Fon Weringha refers to line 2637, “lisit ... thea hluttron an he enriki,” where he interprets the verb as meaning ‘gathers’; however, it

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This reading may have been part of the so-called “Western Text” of the Gospels, since it agrees with the Syriac witnesses, including the Diatessaron, whereas it is also found in Thomas

and Clement. However, one cannot suggest that the Heliand is directly dependent upon the Old Latin Diatessaron, since it is part of the whole Latin tradition, including the Vulgatized Latin harmonies.“ h) thea gédun | The Heliand is in agreement with the ordinary reading bonos in the Latin witnesses of Matthew (= t& KaA&), including

the Latin and vernacular harmonies. The reading differs from Quispel’s reconstructed Latin harmony text (pisces magnos). His assumption of such a variant reading is based on the observation that the Venetian harmony reads e li grandi e li buoni. Although he admits that there is not a trace of the reading magnos (TY does not have pisces) in the Latin tradition and in the remaining Western harmonies, he is still convinced that we have here a remainder of the Western Diatessaron. This conviction is based on the assump-

tion that it was not only the reading of the Gospel of Thomas, but also of the Syriac Diatessaron, both of which have preserved might mean ‘choose’ as well, since the preceding text — “brengid irminthiod, alle tesamne” (line 2636) — speaks of collecting, whereas line 2637 suggests a choice out of what has been collected (cf. Latin separabunt). One may compare lines 2599-2600 — “Jesat thea hluttron man /sundor tesamne” (for colligent, Matt 13.41) — and lines 2568-2569 (“lesan . . . tesamne”), where the idea of colligere is at the background in the Latin text. Fon Weringha (ibid., 102) considers the possibility that /esan might mean alesen (< *az-lesan, cf. arlesan = eligere), but rejects it again.

44 Jbid., 102: “|. . .] on that supposition there would be no deviation from the Vulgate and the Diatessaron to begin with, and therefore no problem to be solved at all.” Fon Weringha assumes, however, that when the author had before him the Vulgate rendering, he must have deliberately departed from the literal sense of the Latin text by choosing /isit, which according to him can only mean colligit (see preceding note), and thus shows the poetic freedom of the author of the Heliand. 45 This assumption (see Quispel, Tatian and the Gospel of Thomas |note 2], 99,

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| Tjitze Baarda here again the original Aramaic version of the parable. Quispel

argues with respect to the Venetian harmony: | Every fisherman will confirm that he is interested in big fishes. So this variant seems true to nature and reality. But it is only here that we find it and in no other Diatessaron. Were it not for a passage in the Syrian author Philoxenus

, of Mabbug |. . .], we would not even know that Tatian has integrated this extra-canonical variant into his Diatessaron. The Venetian harmony is the only one that has preserved this very interesting and archaic reading.*®

It is my conviction that exactly Quispel’s observation that a fisherman is interested in big fish has led to the replacement of good by big or great, when the readers of Matthew no longer

understood the possible dietary background (kashrut) of the contrast T& KaAG - T& Capa ‘the good ones — the putrid or rot-

ten ones. There is no convincing indication that the Diatessaron had a text different from that of Matthew. Anyhow, the Heliand

has no trace of it, but reads bonos (and malos) with the Western , Diatessaron tradition, and leaves out the word pisces, which is found in the Dutch and German harmonies (vesche, vissche, fische); cf. optimos pisces in [a] bh, and also in some Eastern Diatessaron

witnesses. It agrees with the Latin harmonies and the Italian Diatessaron tradition. i) angreote | ‘on the sand* is a peculiar reading, which contrasts 100f., 176; and Het Evangelie van Thomas [note 3], 119f. [rev. ed., 153]) was based

on an allusion of Philoxenus of Mabbug, which he wrongly identified as a Diatessaron text; see my “Philoxenus and the Parable of the Fisherman” [note 2], esp. §§ 8-11. 46 Quispel, Tatian and the Gospel of Thomas [note 3], 153; see also Het Evangelie van Thomas [note 3], 119f. (rev. ed., 153). 47 Krogmann, “Heliand, Tatian, und Thomasevangelium” [note 4], 263, wants

to read here greote as if it were “griuteun (Stein?), which he derives from Old

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the sand of the beach with the sea of the next line. It is clear that, if this is what the author wished to express, we no longer know whether he read in his text in vasa with e.g. the Codex Fuldensis and some Latin harmonies or in vasa sua with most of the vernacular harmonies and some other Latin Diatessaron witnesses such as A and D mentioned by Vogels.

j) endi... eft | Itis interesting to note that the Heliand begins with endi = et instead of autem; cf. “malos autem” in the Latin texts (= Matt 5é). This “and” is the conjunction found in all Eastern Diatessaron witnesses, but also in the Italian harmonies (¢) and those in Dutch (ende) and German (vnd). Quispel’s reconstruction maintains “parvos autem” in spite of the vast Diatessaron testimony for et. Does the Heliand also read “and”? I am not quite sure. The word eft has the meaning of “rursum,” but also

could mean “autem.” Therefore endi . . . eff may go back to autem as well.

k) latid...faran | “\atan faran” means “let go, make go”; it may be an equivalent of mittere. It recurs in lines 2638-2639 — “ldtid thea fargriponon an grund faren / hellie fiures” — where the verb mittere (Matt BaAotow) has been used. Since the poet repeats

the whole expression (“latid . ..an grund faren”) in these lines ~ which belong to the exposition of the line under discussion (2633), “endi latid thea 6dra eft an grund faran” — one might ask whether the expression “an grund latan faran” as such stood for mittere. But there is no reason to follow this line of thinking. Saxon *griutea (a stone pot or jar). I have not the expertise to judge the correctness of this suggestion, which would imply that the author rendered “vasa” here (not “vasa sua” as in Quispel’s reconstruction). Fon Weringha, Heliand and Diatessaron [note 6], 102n375 rejects Krogmann’s conjecture as “not supported by lexical evidence”; he considers the conjecture grétun (in agreement with the Venetian harmony: /i grandi), but rightly rejects it. 48 See Edward H. Sehrt, Vollstandiges Wérterbuch zum Heliand und zur altsdchsischen Genesis, 2nd ed. (Géttingen: Vandenhoek & Ruprecht, 1966), 91 (“wieder,”

“andrerseits, “darauf”).

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In lines 2601-2602, the poet writes “endi thea 6dra an hellia grund, /uuerpad thea faruuarhton an uuallandi fiur.” This is the rendering of Matt 13.42 (kai Badodow adtods eis tiv K&[IVoV tod mvpdg “and they will throw them into the furnace of fire”). So he seems to have used grund in combination with the place where the rejected are cast down. This may be his understanding of grund in lines 2638-26309 as well; in that case an grund

| could be taken as a complement to /atid faran, which already anticipates the hellia grund of the exposition.”

|) angrund... an uuidan uudg | If our suggestion under k is correct, then we have here an indication of the place where the fish will be cast. Grund is ‘ground’, but also ‘bottom’. Is grund together with uwuidan uudg an indication that the poet really found in his source the phrase in mare of the reconstruction of the original Latin harmony that Quispel had made? In that case we have here a reading that is different from al/ other Western harmonies, and not only that, but also different from ail other Diatessaron witnesses that suggest that the Diatessaron contained a Syriac reading ia ‘foras/fforis’ in agreement with Matthew's gm. Quispel’s reconstruction (in mare = cig thv BaAaccav)® is based upon his conviction that the Diatessaron contained the same form of the text that he found in the Gospel of Thomas.

I do not think that any person involved in the reconstruction 49 Except for its occurrence in line 2633, the word grund regularly occurs with the idea of hell (2601, 2638, 5429); see also hellegrund (1491). 50 For the Greek reconstruction, see Quispel, Tatian and the Gospel of Thomas [note 3], 105, 176. Quispel also refers to Macarius for this reading; see “The Syrian Thomas and the Syrian Macarius,” Vigiliae Christianae 18 (1964), 226 (= Gnostic Studies II [note 3], 113-23, esp. 113): 6 @npatig cig tov BuOdv pinter. It is, indeed, striking that Macarius speaks here of one fisherman; one might also compare the parallel text in Hom. 15, where Macarius even reads eic OaAaooay, but then speaks of more than one fisherman (pixtovotv). However, one cannot

make Macarius the crown witness here for the Diatessaron against all other Syriac testimonies.

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of the Diatessaron would follow Quispel in neglecting all the | testimonies in the East and in the West and sacrifice them for the paraphrasing phrase of the Heliand. When, in his commentary, Pierre Bonnard explains the very text of Matthew, he not only writes in his comments “|. . .] tandis que les autres sont rejetés a la mer,” but he even renders the Greek text of Matthew (#€o) with “et rejettent d /a mer les mauvais.”* So one has to consider the possibility that the poet of the Heliand is merely paraphrasing a source text with foras.

THE MAN WHO CAST A SEINE , 12. What still has to be discussed is the remarkable beginning of the parable in the Heliand.* First of all, the introduction reads: “Ok is imu that uuerk gelic that man [. . .].” One cannot paraphrase this phrase with “one can also compare the activity of the kingdom of heaven with the fact that a man |. . .],”°° since the kingdom is not related to the subject, but is indicated by the dative imu; cf. Stapel’s rendering: “Auch gleicht ihm (das Himmelreich) das Werk, dass ein Mann |. . .].”5 51 Pierre Bonnard, L’Evangile selon Saint Matthieu, Commentaire du Nouveau Testament 1 (Neuchatel: Delachaux & Niestlé, 1963), 209. In his comments he even uses the phrase “les autres” in agreement with the Heliand (thea 6dra), but there will be no reader of Bonnard who will say that he had before him here either the Gospel of Thomas or the Heliand. 52 One might avoid the whole discussion if one assumes with Fon Weringha,

Heliand and Diatessaron {note 6], 103, that the poet “did not render his text mechanically, but visualized what he read, and that his images often depicted familiar scenes of his own environment,” a procedure to which he reckons the particulars like those of the single fisherman drawing his net ashore, etc. This might well be the case, but since, in the present discussion, the relation between the Heliand and the Latin Diatessaron is at stake, one has to weigh meticulously the arguments that have been brought forward. | 53. So Quispel, Het Evangelie van Thomas {note 3], 121 (rev. ed., 154).

54 So Quispel, “Der Heliand und das Thomasevangelium” [note 3], 150 Gnostic Studies II [note 3], 96), following the rendering of Stapel.

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One might ask how one has to render man in this case: The word may © mean ‘a man’, ‘a servant’, or ‘one’ (German man, in general: ‘they’ or ‘one’), or ‘someone’. The question has been debated by Quispel, Krogmann, and Huisman.* Instead of “a man” (defended by Quispel and Huisman) or “one” or “they” (defended by Krogmann), I would prefer the rendering “someone” (jemand), since the rendering “Also is similar to it, that is, the Kingdom of Heaven, the activity that some-

one... is quite possible and avoids the dilemma under debate. This, however, means that the poet thinks — as Quispel assumed — of only one person who cast a seine. On the other hand, there is no necessity

to suppose that that he, in fact, read in his source “Iterum simile est regnum caelorum homini mittenti.. .”.5° He might have read the text that is found in all Latin and vernacular harmonies in agreement with the Eastern Diatessaron tradition: “Iterum simile est regnum caelorum sagenae missae in mare,’ interpreting “sagenae missae” as a process in which some person was involved. The poet may merely have

paraphrased these words and more or less revived the static phrase by introducing somebody who did the work. This seems to me the more natural explanation for the text in the Heliand.

13. Yet another question requires an answer, and that is about the application of the parable that is found in the Heliand (which in its own way resembles the text of Matt 13.48f.). In lines 2634-2639 the 55 See Quispel, “Some Remarks on the Gospel of Thomas” [note 3], 289; idem, Tatian and the Gospel of Thomas [note 3], 102f., 176; idem, “Der Heliand und das Thomasevangelium” [note 3], 150 (= Gnostic Studies IT [note 3], 96);

Krogmann, “Heliand, Tatian, und Thomasevangelium” [note 4], 264; J. A. Huisman, Afterword to “Der Heliand und das Thomasevangelium,” by Gilles Quispel, Vigiliae Christianae 16 (1962), 151-52; Krogmann, “Heliand und Thomasevangelium” [note 4], 72f. Since I have no expertise in this area, I do not weigh the arguments. I merely conclude that the lexica presented under the lemma man already included the renderings Mensch, Mann, Dienstmann, man, and jemand before this question arose.

56 See Quispel, “Der Heliand und das Thomasevangelium” [note 3], 150 Gnostic Studies II [note 3], 96).

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poet writes: “S6 duod uualdand god / an themu m4areon dage men-

niscono barn: / brengid irminthiod, alle tesamne, / lisit imu than thea hluttron an hebBenriki, / latid thea fargriponon an grund faren / hellie fiures.”*’ Here again the Heliand paraphrases and abbreviates the text, but it is clear that this rephrasing of Matthew is clearly of his own and not based upon any Diatessaron manuscript. He even omits the angels that are mentioned in Matthew. ‘This is different from the text of the Heliand in the explanation of the parable of the wheat and the tares, lines 2595ff., where the Son of Man has been

replaced by “the berhto drohtin,” but the angels are maintained here as the active servants of the Lord. This is not the case in our text, which seems to prove that he adjusted the explanation of the parable to the new form of the introduction that he presented in line 2639 (man). This suggests that one rather should not render with “one” or “they” (German man), but with “a man”® or — what I would prefer — “someone.” This does not mean, however, that the poet had a text before him with hominzi.

14. But let us suppose for a moment that Quispel were correct in his verdict that the Heliand has preserved here a very archaic reading. In this case we are faced with a very difficult problem. If we had to assume that man in the Heliand preserved the Diatessaron reading

here, it would mean that the harmony text read homini, a read-

57 Cf. Krogmann, “Heliand, Tatian, und Thomasevangelium” [note 4], 263. 58 Fon Weringha, Heliand and Diatessaron [note 6], 102, seems to suggest that it was the other way around: “We then find that the whole parable appears to be adapted to the idea that not the angels, as in the canonical version, but God gathers the good in heaven, and sends the bad to hell.” In that case the form of the parable (with one person) was fashioned by the application that the poet wished to make. 59 So Quispel, “Der Heliand und das Thomasevangelium” [note 3], 150f. (= Gnostic Studies IT (note 3], 96f.). However, his remark “Und setzt die Anwendung des Gleichnisses auf den einen Gott nicht voraus, dass im Gleichnis einer, nicht ‘man’ gemeint ist?” would plead in favor of my translation with someone.

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ing only attested by Clement of Alexandria (4v@pmzq).© His own reconstruction of the primitive Latin Diatessaron reads piscatori.”! This in turn was the reading that he (in my view, wrongly) assumed to have been that of the Syriac Diatessaron, or rather, as he once supposed, &vOpanw cArét or the Syriac equivalent of it. Now, the Coptic text of the Gospel of Thomas has “like a wise fisherman” (TNTWN ayoywze ppnNgnT). The problem of Quispel’s discussion of

the respective witnesses is obvious: The Latin Diatessaron behind the Heliand has homini in agreement with Clement, while the primitive Latin Diatessaron and its Syriac counterpart has piscatori in agreement with Thomas. Now, Quispel does not give us any clue to its solution, since he himself apparently does not see a difficulty here. The only thing he sees is that in all these texts the kingdom is compared with one person (a man or a fisherman) who casts a net, and not with a net that has been cast. But he should have given us some kind of genealogy of the variant readings that are found here. What is the relation between Thomas (fisherman), the Diatessaron (a man [=some fisherman]) as reconstructed at one place — or perhaps the Diatessaron (a fisherman) as reconstructed at another place — the reading of Clement (a man), and the Heliand (a man, according to his

view)? I cannot draw that genealogy, and I am certain that neither could he. Therefore it is too early for me to back up his views. I am reluctant to follow him when he says that the Heliand is so much nearer to the original version of Tatian’s work than even Ephrem’s

commentary on the Diatessaron, and that in the Heliand, as in Tatian, it was the parable of the fisherman, and not of the fishnet, that “makes all the difference.”®

60 Ibid., 149 (Gnostic Studies IT, 95), as regards Stromata 6.11.95. 61 Ibid., 150 (Gnostic Studies IT, 96); see also Het Evangelie van Thomas [note 3], 121 (rev. ed., 154).

62 See Quispel, “Der Heliand und das Thomasevangelium” [note 3], 149 (= Gnostic Studies IT [note 3], 95.). 63 See Quispel, Tatian and the Gospel of Thomas [note 3], 102. In other studies he

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The Parable of the Fisherman in the Heliand CONCLUSION

This contribution has been written by someone who has a vivid interest in the problems of the reconstruction of the Eastern and Western Diatessaron, not by someone who has any experience inthe area of Old Saxon literature. This may explain possible weaknesses in the present author’s judgment. However, since the reconstruction of the Diatessaron does not allow us to discard the contribution of the Old Saxon poem to the reconstruction of the Latin Diatessaron,

not qualified. , I have ventured to take the risk and enter an area in which I am

It is the merit of Quispel that he has renewed the interest of

theologians in the text of the Heliand, especially in its value to the reconstruction of the Latin Diatessaron, but this cannot prevent us from examining the trustworthiness of the outcome of his research into the poem. This has been the only purpose of this contribution. In the case of the parable of the fishing net or fisherman the result is negative as far as the Heliand is concerned. There is only one distinctive and remarkable reading in which the Heliand betrays knowledge of an independent Latin source, namely in the verse tiuhid up te stade, a verse in which the Heliand differs from Quispel’s own reconstruction of the

primitive Latin Diatessaron, as it does in so many respects. Was the poet led here by a variant reading either in his text or in some early commentary? It is worthwhile, therefore, to read the Heliand beside the other vernacular and Latin witnesses of the Western Diatessaron in order to discover possible characteristic readings that may have had their origin in one of the Latin Diatessarons that were current in the time of the Heliand poet or were present in the commentary

tradition that he was acquainted with. | is more careful with his verdict; see for instance Het Evangelie van Thomas [note 3], 121 — “het is niet uitgesloten” —- and “Der Heliand und das Thomasevangelium” [note 3], 149 (= Gnostic Studies II |note 3], 95): “Ist es, |. . .| wirklich nicht erlaubt,

zu vermuten?”

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(Un)Desirable Origins: The Heliand and the Gospel of ‘Thomas’ Valentine A. Pakis “The search for origins is never disinterested; those wishing to trace an idea or tradition to its historical, linguistic, and textual beginnings have always done so with a thesis in mind,

| and the origin they have found has often been an origin they have produced.””

he appellation “Fifth Gospel” betrays the anxiety that has surrounded the Gospel of ‘Thomas since its discovery, not sixty years ago, among the Nag Hammadi codices. ‘The Fifth Gospel occupies a liminal position, since Western efforts to exterior-

ize this text, compelled by its “exotic” and “heretical” origins, are offset by its antiquity and content, which threaten the authority of the Christian canon. The possibility, in other words, that the Gospel of ‘Thomas preserves an older tradition of the sayings of Jesus frustrates its comfortable place among Eastern apocrypha. From the Christian West, the prologue and opening Logion incite a defensive | reading: NAel NE N@AXE GEHTT ENTA IC ETONZ XOOY AYW AqCZAICOY

Noi AlAyMoc 10yAac ewmac (1) AyW Niexaq xe NMeTAZge GOEpMHNElA

1 Originally published in Exemplaria: A journal of Theory in Medieval and Renaissance Studies 17 (2005), 215-53. 2 Allen J. Frantzen, Desire for Origins: New Language, Old English, and Teaching the Tradition (New Brunswick: Rutgers UP, 1990), xii.

| 120

(Un)Desirable Origins NNEEIWAXe GNaAxI Tre AN MmMoy “These are the secret words that

the living Jesus spoke, and Didymus Judas Thomas wrote them. (1)

And he said, ‘He who finds the interpretation of these words will not taste death’.”’ On October 7, 1956, three years before Thomas would be edited,‘ the following headlines appeared in the New York Times: “Scholars

Study a ‘Fifth Gospel’: 13 Volumes Dug Up in Egypt Are Only Apocryphal Works, Coptic Expert Says Here,”® and “Apostolic Authorship Denied.”* The former article, which despite its subheading

made no mention of apocrypha, explained that the Nag Hammadi texts “are themselves translations from books written in the Aramaic language that Jesus spoke.” The latter assured the public that the artifact is “in no genuine sense another Gospel.” Reassurance would come in two later articles, one of which announced that the Sayings, which now follow a Greek exemplar, “are capable of enriching and furthering our understanding of the canonical Gospels,” but are no cause for “sensationalism.”’ The other, which repeated the remark about the discovery’s capabilities, also noted: As far as writings as a whole are concerned, our four canonic Gospels are the only ones on which we can rely. Again and 3 Bentley Layton, ed., Nag Hammadi Codex II,2-7, Nag Hammadi Studies 20 (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1989), 52. The word separation and numeration of the Gospel of Thomas are editorial. Unless otherwise indicated, English translations are my own throughout this paper. 4 A. Guillaumont et al., eds., The Gospel According to Thomas: Coptic Text Established

and Translated (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1959). It should be noted that, before the editio princeps, a partial facsimile of the Gospel of Thomas was published in Pahor Labib, ed., Coptic Gnostic Papyri in the Coptic Museum at Old Cairo (Cairo: Government Press, 1956).

5 “Scholars Study a ‘Fifth Gospel’: 13 Volumes Dug Up in Egypt Are Only Apocryphal Works, Coptic Expert Says Here,” New York Times, October 7, 1956, 34.

6 “Apostolic Authorship Denied,” New York Times, October 7, 1956, 34. 7 “114 in Coptic Script of “Thomas Gospel’ Described Here,” New York Times, March 19, 1959, 1.

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This opinion would recur in a book review on April 3, 1960: “[T]he Gospel of Thomas has little, if any, independent value as a source for the teaching of Jesus. |. . .| Its value is for the history of the church rather than for the interpretation of the New Testament.” In the spring of 1959, the Dutch patristic scholar Gilles Quispel responded to the media in a lecture entitled “Some Remarks on the Gospel of Thomas,” which he would publish later that year. Here he not only discredited the “very inadequate and incompetent items”"

printed in American and British newspapers but also made, as it seemed to him, a shocking announcement: The excitement of the general public, especially in the AngloSaxon world, seems to be considerable. Great expectations, I am afraid, will be followed by still greater disillusionment. And yet it seems to me that this discovery is much more important than even the wildest of reporters dream of, if only we are willing to apply the methods of scholarship. The zmportance of the Gospel of Thomas lies in the fact that it contains an independent and very old Gospel tradition.”

8 “Excerpts From Talk on Jesus’ Sayings,” New York Times, March 19, 1959, 12.

9 Robert C. Dentan, “From the Gospel of Thomas,” review of The Secret Sayings of Jesus, by Robert M. Grant and David Noel Freedman, New York Times, April 3, 1960, BR26. 10 Gilles Quispel, “Some Remarks on the Gospel of Thomas,” New Testament Studies 5 (1958/1959), 276-90. The lecture was delivered between the seventh and seventeenth of April in Aarhus, Copenhagen, Lund, Uppsala, and Oslo.

11 Ibid., 276. 12 Ibid., 277. The italics are Quispel’s.

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In certain readings of the Gospel of Thomas, Quispel detected the influence of a Judaic-Christian Gospel, composed in Aramaic and independent of the canonical writings, which he identified as the Gospel according to the Hebrews. Traces of the latter, according to Quispel, show themselves in four ways: 1) through Aramaisms in the Coptic text, 2) through parallels from Judaic-Christian literature, 3) through the efforts of form criticism, and 4) through parallels from Diatessaronic witnesses. These traces, Quispel remarked, are of great

importance, since they reflect an early and independent account of the canonical narrative; they have, in fact, “some consequences for our assessment of the value of our Gospels.” It is to the connection between the Gospel of Thomas and the Diatessaron, which share more than a hundred non-canonical readings, that Quispel, here and elsewhere, devoted the most energy. His argument that the parallels between Thomas and Tatian derive from a Judaic-Christian Gospel, which found early critics, relied heavily on evidence from Western Diatessaronic witnesses. Among these his favorite was the Old Saxon Heliand, the poet of which, he

13 Ibid., 278. | 14 For the culmination of his research on the topic, see Gilles Quispel, Tatian and the Gospel of Thomas: Studies in the History of the Western Diatessaron (Leiden:

E. J. Brill, 1975). 15 See Tjitze Baarda, “Thomas and Tatian,” in Early Transmission of Words of Jesus: Thomas, Tatian and the Text of the New Testament, ed. J. Helderman and S.

J. Noorda (Amsterdam: VU Boekhandel, 1983), 49. Originally published as “Thomas en Tatianus” in Het Evangelie van Thomas, by R. Schippers and Tjitze Baarda (Kampen: Kok, 1960): “Quispel’s solution is most attractive at first sight,

not only because the points of agreement between Thomas and Tatian would be adequately accounted for in this way, but because there are then no difficul-

‘ties of chronology. Nevertheless, there are objections to Quispel’s solution. Namely that it has become apparent to us that the Coptic Gospel of Thomas is descended, not from a (West-)Aramaic, but a Syriac text. Tatian wrote his harmony in Syriac, too. Now we can date Tatian’s harmony fairly accurately, but not the Syriac text of the Gospel of Thomas. So it is impossible as yet to decide the issue of dependency with any certainty.”

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thought, “used a very primitive text of Tatian’s Diatessaron.” In a number of studies, beginning with the lecture from 1959, Quispel tied the Heliand to the Gospel of Thomas by way of the Diatessaron and, from there, the Gospel according to the Hebrews.” His introduction 16 Quispel, “Some Remarks” [note 10], 284. 17 See ibid, 285: “[T]he Gospel of Thomas has left nowhere in the Diatessaron

tradition such clear traces as in the Heliand”; idem, “Der Heliand und das Thomasevangelium,” Vigiliae Christianae 16 (1962), 151: “We believe we have proved

that the Heliand is based on a very deviant and ancient text of the Diatessaron that has variants in common with the Gospel of Thomas. And if the scholars are correct who say that the Gospel of Thomas contains an independent, JewishChristian tradition, it is possible that a reverberation of this voice may be felt in the Heliand” [Wir glauben bewiesen zu haben, dass der Heliand auf einem sehr abweichenden und altertiimlichen Text des Diatessarons beruht, welcher Varianten mit dem Thomasevangelium gemein hat. |. . .| Und wenn die Forscher recht haben, die meinen, dass das Thomasevangelium eine unabhangige, judenchristliche Tradition enthalt, dirfte sogar im Heliand noch ein Nachklang dieser Stimme zu spiiren sein.”; idem, “Jewish Influences on the ‘Heliand’,” in Religions in Antiquity: Essays in Memory of Erwin Ramsdell Goodenough, ed. Jacob

Neusner (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1968), 246: “But then we must not forget that the Diatessaron of Tatian contained Jewish Christian Gospel tradition [sic]. The same is the case with the Gospel of Thomas: if the two writings have so many variants in common, it is because they used the same source, an independent Aramaic Gospel tradition, brought by Jewish missionaries to Mesopotamia, where both Tatian and the author of the Gospel of Thomas lived. And so the Heliand, based as it is upon a Tatianic Gospel harmony, has preserved distinct echoes of this Palestinian tradition.”; idem, “The Latin Tatian or the Gospel of Thomas in Limburg,” Journal of Biblical Literature 88 (1969), 328: “One finds agreements with the Gospel of Thomas in all versions of the Diatessaron, even in those of the West. This means therefore that the OL [Old Latin] Diatessaron, on which are based the Heliand, the Limburg Life of Jesus, and the Venetian harmony, have preserved readings not alone from Tatian but also from his Jewish-Christian source”; idem, Tatian and the Gospel of Thomas [note 14], 29: “Moreover, it was established that the Heliand had many variants in common with the JewishChristian Gospel tradition as contained in the Gospel of Thomas, the PseudoClementine writings, and the Jewish-Christian Gospel fragments. From this it was deduced that the Heliand preserved quite a few interesting variants of the

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of the Fifth Gospel to medieval studies caught the attention of the Heliand scholar Willy Krogmann, who, in two articles, denied the connection."* The Germanist offered an alternate explanation for each

of Quispel’s readings, arguing that the latter “had not considered that the Heliand is not a word for word translation of its Latin Vorlage

but rather an epic poem based on it.” A typical reading and riposte concerned the repetition of the canonical ‘Anddote ‘give’ in the Old Saxon (gebad, selliad) and Coptic (t, t) versions of Matt 22.21: MATT 22.21 TOTE AEVEL AdDTOIS, ANdd0TE OV TA Kaicoapos Kaioaptr KL TA TOD BEOD TH OE.

[Then he says to them, “Give, then, the things of Caesar to Caesar, and the things of God to God.”

Sayings of Jesus not preserved elsewhere.” For remarks on Quispel’s inconsistent | labeling of the Judaic-Christian source, see Baarda, “Tatian and Thomas’ [note 15], 49; and William L. Petersen, Tatian’s Diatessaron: Its Creation, Dissemination, Significance, and History in Scholarship, Supplements to Vigiliae Christianae 25 (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1994), 279n55. 18 Willy Krogmann, “Heliand, Tatian und Thomasevangelium,” Zeitschrift fur die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft und die Kunde der dlteren Kirche 51 (1960), 255-68;

idem, “Heliand und Thomasevangelium,” Vigiliae Christianae 18 (1964), 65-73. 19 Krogmann, “Heliand, Tatian und Thomasevangelium” [note 18], 258: “[hatte] nicht beriicksichtigt, da& der Heliand keine wortliche Ubersetzung der lateinischen Vorlage, sondern eine aus ihr gestaltete epische Dichtung ist.” For surveys of this debate, see Petersen, Tatian’s Diatessaron |note 17], 279-81, 288-90, which I shall discuss below, and Juw fon Weringha, Heliand and Diatessaron (Assen: Van Gorcum, 1965), 37-38.

20 The Greek, Coptic, and Old Saxon texts are from the following editions: Barbara Aland et al., eds., The Greek New Testament, 4th ed. (Nordlingen: C. H. Beck, 2001; repr. 2004); Bentley Layton, ed., Nag Hammadi Codex II, 2-7 |note

3]; Otto Behaghel, ed., Heliand und Genesis, 10th ed., rev. Burkhard Taeger, Altdeutsche Textbibliothek 4 (Tiibingen: Max Niemeyer, 1996).

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